


Wayne's Boys 2: Family Ties

by KatHarkness_Katara



Series: Wayne's Boys [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Action, F/M, Family Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Semi-graphic Violence & Suggested Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 63
Words: 66,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4545204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatHarkness_Katara/pseuds/KatHarkness_Katara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No-one would have thought of Batman as a family man - or Bruce Wayne, actually. But now he's got all four of his boys back under the manor's roof, can he keep them there? Or will Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian cause too much chaos? At least the girls are around to keep them in line… No slash, some romantic pairings. Rated T for Jason & Damian's language, and violent themes</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. School Days

The phone rang in Bruce's study. He snatched it up on the second ring. "Wayne Manor…Yes, Bruce Wayne speaking…Ah, Principal, how may I help?...Jason and Tim? What have they?...Yes, I see, I'll be right over." He slammed the phone down. Almost as an afterthought, he indulged himself in throwing it across the room.

As he stormed down to the garage, he ran into Dick. "I know that look," his eldest son said. "What happened?"

"Tim and Jason got into a fight," Bruce growled

"Who with?" Dick sighed.

"Each other." Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes at his boys' antics.

"Ah. I assume they both…?" Dick trailed off, letting a slight tremor run through his body to signify injury or incapacitation.

"Nothing serious. Yet." Bruce bit off the words before musing that if that kind of behaviour kept up, _he'd_ be the one causing injury.

"Want me to come with you?" Dick offered, avoiding flinching from the aggravated fury in his father's eyes.

"That would be wise. Thank you," Bruce said, thankful that he'd have someone to help him keep his temper in check. Really, didn't those boys know what acceptable behaviour in public was yet?

They got into one of the less flashy cars and drove off.

* * *

When they reached the school and were shown into the principal's office, Tim and Jason were glaring at each other over folded arms. "Alright then, what was it about this time?" Bruce sighed.

"He showed me up in class," Jason muttered.

"You're in the same class?" Dick asked, slightly confused. He hadn't been paying attention when Bruce told him he'd sorted out schooling, but there was a three year age gap; surely that counted for something.

"Jason had to go back a few years, and it clashed with Tim's advanced placement classes," Bruce explained to Dick before turning back to Jason. "What do you mean, 'showed you up'?"

"He needs to work on his chemistry, that's all," Tim said, mildly irritated, and, potentially, mockingly.

"Just 'cause I can't recite the Periodic Table-!"

"Enough!" Bruce exclaimed. "Would you both stop being so petty?"

"Sorry," they both muttered, looking at the floor.

"Now grow up!" he growled, looking so frustrated even Dick had to take a step back lest it turn to anger.

"Ah, Mr. Wayne?" the principal interjected. "We have a policy that any student fighting gets sent home for the rest of the day. Do you mind…?"

"Not at all," Bruce smiled tightly. "I'm sorry my boys have made such a bad impression on you. They are usually capable of behaving; I'm sure they'll do better in the future."

"At least Damian isn't here," Dick added under his breath.

At that moment, as if on cue, Damian barged through the door. "Miss Curtis says I'm to give you this," he said, presenting the principal with a handwritten note. Then he looked around. "Let me guess. Drake and Todd were fighting, so you had to come get them. What's Grayson doing here?"

Behind them, the principal quietly read out the list of misdemeanours while Bruce and Dick glowered at Damian, and Tim and Jason stared daggers at each other. "Disrespect, threatening students, bad language, violent behaviour…Mr. Wayne, would you please take this one away as well?"

* * *

Later, in the car home, the apparent stupidity of the boys was sinking in. "I can't believe this," Bruce exploded from the front passenger seat. "On your first day, all of you end up in the principal's office! Can't you behave yourselves for one day?!"

Squashed in the back, the three disgraced Wayne boys muttered apologies.

"Do you have any idea how hard it will be to get you educated if you insist on behaving like that?"

Bruce paused for breath, and Damian jumped in. "So why'd you bring Grayson?" he demanded again, squirming and worried; Dick had been the one who originally taught him proper behaviour.

"Because I'm not sure I could drive in a straight line right now," Bruce growled, nodding to Dick behind the wheel.

"The mind boggles as to how you got into trouble, Tim," Dick said. "What made you fight Jason? Besides the obvious."

"It wasn't the obvious. He was moaning about having to learn molecular structure, and I said it was important to know. He said he already knew all the chemistry he needed, and started listing explosive compounds. The teacher started looking nervous, and I told him to stop it. He said why, and I told him he had too limited a field of expertise, and he hit me."

"You sneered at me! In class! Not only am I studying pointless subjects with children years younger than me, the Replacement sneers at me!" Jason shot a furious glare, and probably would have tried punching Tim if Damian hadn't been in the way.

"Tim, don't sneer at Jason. Jason, don't hit Tim. And stop calling him 'Replacement'," Bruce said. "Damian? Care to account for your behaviour?"

"They're all stupid, worthless wimps and the teachers are pig-ignorant-"

"Damian!" Bruce counted to ten before continuing. "You can think whatever you like about them, as long as you behave as if you respect them."

"Why?"

"Because that's the right way to do things! If you can't act the part to the general public, how can I trust you to act correctly anywhere else?"

"I'm a good actor." Damian responded sulkily.

"Well, prove it." He sighed wearily. "You three are grounded until further notice. You can use the time to catch up on what you should be studying right now."

The boys started hissing recriminations at each other, only to fall silent at the look Bruce shot them in the mirror.

* * *

They managed fifteen minutes without fighting. Bruce knew, because he started a stop-clock after shutting himself in his study. Reluctantly, he tracked down the source of the disturbance. He soon found Tim and Damian rolling around on the floor, trying to tear chunks out of each other. Dick was trying desperately to separate them, to no avail. He gestured for a watching Jason to help him, and finally got them apart.

"I don't care what that was about, but I don't want to see it again," he said. "Go to your rooms."

As the boys slunk off, Bruce beckoned Dick. "What happened to Tim? He's such a good kid; what's his problem?"

Dick shrugged. "He's sharing a home with two guys who tried to kill him, what do you think's the problem?"

Bruce sighed. "I'm sure they'll sort it out eventually."

"Hopefully before someone gets maimed," Dick muttered, before heading back to his own studies.


	2. Trust

**Family Ties Chapter 2 Trust**

As night fell on Gotham, the Batmobile raced through the streets. Inside, Batman and Nightwing considered their options. "They weren't happy about staying home," Nightwing said. "We might return to carnage or something."

"They have to learn to control themselves," Batman said.

"Please, Bruce," Dick sighed, giving him a slightly condescending look, unable to understand why he just wasn't getting the situation. "Damian has contempt for the human race in general (Tim in particular), Jason has a lot of anger to work out, and Tim's under assault from all sides. They need to get out, use their aggression on the streets.

"Rather than each other?" Nightwing nodded, and Batman frowned to himself, considering his eldest son's words. "If we need them, we'll call them," he decided.

"And if we don't? I'd hate to think of the mess they might leave if they have to stay home all night."

"I'm sure Alfred can keep them under control."

* * *

Alfred finished emptying the fire extinguisher as the blaze petered out. "Master Jason, you are not to smoke inside, and especially not while manufacturing explosives. You are not even allowed explosives outside the cave."

"Yeah, whatever," Jason muttered, glancing away and sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "I won't set the house on fire again."

Alfred glowered, snatching the still-lit cigarette from Jason's lips and stubbing it out, just as a loud crash echoed through the halls. Sprinting towards the source of the noise, they found Tim swinging from an antique chandelier over a bannister and onto the balcony as one of Damian's throwing knives whizzed past his head.

"Sweet," Jason said. "Can I join in?"

"Master Tim. Master Damian. Master Jason. I was going to bake cookies. If you continue to misbehave, you will get none, and Master Dick will have a very enjoyable evening. Is that understood?" The boys' nods said it all. "Well, then, I'm sure you can find something to do."

"Fine. I'm going to the cave to do some research," Tim said.

"Grounded, remember?" Jason grumbled.

"I'm not going out. Just using the computer."

"Is that allowed?" Damian demanded of Alfred.

"As far as I am aware, the Batcave is not off-limits, provided it is not used as an exit," Alfred ruled. "I believe you two have homework."

"And Drake doesn't?" Damian retorted.

"I did mine while you two were trying to sneak into Dick's candy stash," Tim said. "Not my fault you're not finished."

Tim strode off towards the cave while Alfred sighed, and shooed the other two away.

* * *

In Gotham, Batman and Nightwing watched a load of drugs coming off a ship. "Ready?" Batman asked.

"Three more over there," Nightwing said, nodding towards them. "Think I can take 'em, but then I can't back you up."

"I'll be fine. Only five. On three?" Batman held up his fist, raising one finger, then another. Before he could raise a third, one of the men fell with a crossbow bolt in his shoulder. Another followed suit, and a figure in a dark cape descended. As she landed, Batman identified the woman's black and purple livery- Huntress, a neophyte vigilante none of them had crossed before, and who hadn't gained a high enough profile to be a priority. Nightwing watched as the three men he'd spotted rounded the corner and raised shotguns. Cursing under his breath, he flipped off the roof and pulled out his escrima sticks. Landing silently behind them, he knocked out two with the sticks and kicked the third between the legs. As they fell, he scooped up the guns, a quick glance telling him the safeties were off. He kept them pointed at the wall while he pulled them into a firmer grasp, and then looked round at a gunshot. Huntress had twisted back, and her battle-staff disarmed the last man. Batman swept down to the dock covered in unconscious men and glared at Huntress.

"Risky," he said. "You could have been shot, and your crossbow could have killed them."

"I know what I'm doing," she replied, irritated.

"Oh yeah?" Nightwing scoffed, dragging three men by their cuffed wrists behind him, the shotguns under his arm. "What were you going to do about these three?"

Huntress stayed silent. "You didn't see them, did you?" Batman asked. "And you didn't see us. You rushed into action."

"And how would you have done it?" the now-irate Huntress asked.

"Smoke bomb and night vision lenses."

"Huh." She looked away, bending to cuff the men. "You always have an answer." When she looked back, Batman and Nightwing were gone.

* * *

From the rooftop, Batman watched Huntress' confusion. He tapped his commlink. "Red Robin. I need you to go to the cave- Get the CCTV footage at my location. I want to know everything about Huntress."

* * *

In the Batcave, Tim pulled up the live footage. "Okay, I can see her. How much do you want to know?" On another screen, he rewound the footage, jumping from camera to camera to back-track her progress. "Name, address, date of birth, social security number, next of kin, what are we talking about?"

" _All of it,"_ replied Batman. _"I want to know how far we can trust her, and I need to know who she is for that."_

" _Do you want her as one of us, or leave her as an independent like Question and Batwoman?"_ Nightwing asked, his own comm picking up his speech.

" _Question and Batwoman are more careful,"_ Batman explained. _"Huntress is too…incautious._ "

"Why not just knock her out and bring her here?" Tim asked. "Wouldn't be the first time, you did that with Batgirl." He noticed something on the first screen. "Lost her on camera. You want the co-ordinates, or let her go? Still back-tracking."

" _Keep working on it,"_ Batman replied. _"We'll give her some space._ "

"I'll run an elimination program on the driver licence database. Give us some leads if nothing else."

As he said that, the back-track program froze, as Huntress climbed out of an apartment window.

"Gotcha," Tim murmured.


	3. Damina's Dilemma

**Family Ties Chapter 3 Damian's Dilemma**

Damian shuddered out of sleep, biting his lip to keep from crying out. He shook his head to dispel the image of bodies piled high. He slipped out of bed and padded towards Grayson's room. He heard light footsteps, and ducked behind a sculpture. As he watched, Grayson padded past carrying a sleeping Drake in his arms. A pattern of red patches on Drake's face betrayed the fact he'd fallen asleep on the Batcomputer's keyboard. Stealthily Damian followed, watching as Grayson put Drake to bed and tucked him in. He turned. "Something the matter, Little D?" he asked quietly.

"Why was Drake up so late?" Damian asked, omitting mention of his nightmare.

Grayson shrugged. Damian noticed he was only wearing jeans and a shirt, his hair wet from the shower. "Bruce gave him some research. You know how he is." His eyes narrowed. "I didn't pass your room. Were you looking for me?"

"No!"

Grayson looked past the denial, seeing traces of fear still fading. "You had a bad dream, huh?" Damian didn't answer. "C'mon. Let's let Tim sleep, and you can tell me all about it."

Quickly, Grayson scooped Damian up and carried him to his own room. He set him on the bed, grabbed his pyjamas, and slipped into the bathroom. "One minute," he promised, leaving Damian to examine the room. Grayson's floor was covered in clothing and the occasional book. The desk was a cluttered mess of papers, stationary, batarangs and escrima sticks. Above it, a pin board held the front pages of a dozen _Daily Planet_ s focusing on Superman. Damian knew that this was largely for the purposes of giving Father something to yell about. Several leather-bound albums on the bedside table contained newspaper clippings of the exploits of Batman, Robin, Nightwing, the Titans and Outsiders, and all the other groups and people he'd been involved with over the years. Damian picked up the top one, flicking through until he found an article on the Joker's defeat dating to when Grayson was Batman.

"We did good, didn't we?" Damian looked up, seeing Grayson standing in the doorway in his ice-blue pyjamas, the same shade as his eyes.

"That is grammatically incorrect," he responded, shutting the album with a snap and replacing it.

Coming over, Grayson shook his head. "I don't mean we did well, I mean we did things that were good. Don't you agree?" He sat on the bed beside Damian and reached out to hug him, but he pulled away. "What's the matter, Dami?"

Damian stared at the floor. "What would happen if Mother tried to take me back?" he asked eventually.

"We'd do everything we could to keep you safe."

"And if I went with her willingly?"

"I don't know." Grayson looked at him. "Dami, do you know something? Suspect something? You know we just want you to be safe and happy…"

"I know that. You cannot resist continuously saying so." He bit his lip. "I do not know anything. I suspect Mother will come at some point, but I have nothing other than knowledge of her and Grandfather to base that on." He closed his eyes. "I hope she doesn't…" he whispered, almost to himself.

"Is that what you were dreaming about?" Grayson asked. When Damian didn't reply, he pulled him into a hug. "Don't worry, we won't let her hurt you…"

"And if you're dead?" Damian said, pulling away. "What if you all get killed, and no-one's left? Or if I have the choice of either going willingly or seeing you all dead?" Fighting back tears, Damian closed his eyes. "What do I do then?"

"You care that much, huh?" Grayson murmured. "I can't answer that. There just isn't an answer. If I ever ended up in that position, I'd go with the bad guy, fight it as much as possible, and hope to hell you get me out…But I'm not you, and I don't know what Talia might put you through. Just try to let us know what happens if you ever wind up there. We'll come for you."

Damian leaned against Grayson, finally letting his oldest brother hold him. "What if only you die? What if I'm safe, but you pay for it?" At Grayson's startled look, he elaborated. "They'd hate me for it. Father loves you best…"

"Now you're sounding like Jason," Grayson quipped. "Sure, Bruce would be…upset…but he wouldn't blame you. You're still his son."

"I'm an assassin kid he happens to be related to. You're the one he chose as his son. I'm just the one he has to acknowledge."

"That really how you see yourself, Dami? Just because Bruce never shows it doesn't mean he doesn't love you. He loves all of us. And you're extra special because you're the only one of us who's his biologically."

"But I've disappointed him so much…"

"So has Jason."

"He feels responsible for Todd."

"Never heard the story of how he first met Jason?"

Damian paused. "Only that he was a street kid who ran away after his father left and his mother died."

"Yeah, but Bruce ran into him nicking the Batmobile's tyres."

"And he took him in?"

"He liked his style."

"Tt." Damian felt his eyelids drooping as sleep started to claim him again. "Grayson, if Father had another kid, biologically, would I be less special?"

As he faded out of consciousness, he heard Grayson chuckle. "Not a bit, Little D. Not a bit."


	4. Bickering Over Bacon

**Family Ties Chapter 4 Bickering Over Bacon**

When Dick awoke the next morning, he was alone, a heap of cooling bedclothes betraying evidence of Damian's presence during the night. Evidently, the talk last night was more than a weird dream, although Damian would likely deny it ever took place. Smiling slightly, he dressed and went down for breakfast.

The boys were already there. He slid into his seat next to Tim and reached for the toast rack. "Hey," he said. "I miss anything back here last night?"

"Uh, I got some good leads on one of those cold cases before Bruce called in that new research project," Tim answered, not looking up from his porridge.

Jason swallowed a mouthful of bacon. "Oh, and Alfred made cookies."

"Really?" Dick said, perking up.

"We ate most of them already," Jason replied, snickering.

"Thanks," Dick said, crestfallen. "What about you, Little D?"

Damian pushed aside his empty cereal bowl, also grabbing toast. "Todd made me watch a movie. He said it would be 'educational'." He made a vicious gesture with the butter knife. "It was ludicrous."

"Uh, okay," Dick said, keeping a wary eye on the knife. "What movie was it?"

"Kung Fu Panda."

"Right…"

"Boys." Bruce walked in and took a seat at the head of the table. "Tim, what did you get on Huntress?"

"Right," the fourteen-year-old said straightening up. "Okay, I back-tracked her to an apartment using security cameras. The apartment is leased to one Holly Walker. But I think that's a pseudonym."

"No Holly Walkers?" Dick asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Five in Gotham. One is in her sixties, two in elementary and middle school, and one in and out of hospital with kidney problems."

"And the fifth?"

"Blonde." Dick snickered, and Tim shot him a look. "I checked the photo on her driving licence. Not her. Huntress pays the lease in cash weekly. I managed to get some footage of her without the mask. But she doesn't spend enough time there for it to be her primary residence; I think she just keeps her Huntress gear there." He tapped his spoon against the side of his bowl. "The apartment's right on the edge of Catwoman's territory. Might be a correlation…"

"I'll look into it. Anything else?" Bruce asked.

"I ran a picture of her through the driving licence database. I…didn't see the results."

"You fell asleep," Dick said, leaning back in his chair. "We've all done that. Go on."

"Probably going to be at least a dozen hits. There's a couple of other avenues I want to explore. I can check hospital records to see if anyone repeatedly comes in with multiple injuries."

"We don't."

"I know, Jason, doesn't mean she doesn't. It's something I can look at. Other thing I want to try is tracking down her equipment supplier." Tim scraped out the bottom of his porridge bowl and grabbed a piece of toast.

"Good work," Bruce said.

"Why are you interested in Huntress all of a sudden?" Jason asked around a mouthful of fried pig. "She's been around for months and you never seemed too interested."

"Perhaps I should have been. We encountered her last night. She could have been killed. She came close to crippling or killing herself. She's acting like an amateur, and I don't want amateurs in my city." He stared moodily into his coffee mug, giving off a definite "brooding" vibe.

"She probably just had a bad night, Bruce," Dick said, rolling his eyes. "We've all been a bit off from time to time."

"There's something else, isn't there?" Tim asked. "Gut feeling?"

"Something like that," Bruce replied.

Dick and Tim nodded, Jason shrugged, and Damian gave a disinterested "Tt."

"Alright, then. You three," Bruce pointed at Jason, Tim and Damian, "are still suspended. This morning you will do school work. This afternoon, Jason will check over the vehicles in the Cave. Just make sure they're running okay, well stocked, clean. Damian, inventory the armoury. Tim, keep going with that research. I've made arrangements for your homework to be brought over, and I expect it to be done."

"How are you getting us homework?" Jason asked, "Goldbird picking it up?"

"I've got classes today, Jay," Dick mumbles. "College, remember?"

"Why? What's the point of studying Forensics and Criminology; you already know it all."

"You've asked me that at least eighteen times. The answer is still the same: Because it proves I know it. The same reason Barbara gave the seven times you asked why she's studying Computer Science."

"Why isn't she doing Drake's research?" Damian asked. "Her skills in that area are superior." He set his knife on his empty plate.

"She was patrolling last night as Batgirl," Bruce answered. "And this afternoon she has a training session in the Cave with Spoiler."

"Excellent," Dick said, cheering up, cramming the last of his breakfast in his mouth. "Are they staying for dinner? Been ages since we had the girls round…"

"I believe so," Bruce replied mildly. "That reminds me, Cass called. She gets home on Saturday."

Dick and Tim beamed at the thought of their sixteen-year-old adopted sister returning from an extended vacation in Hong Kong. Jason, who didn't know her well, shrugged and continued eating. Damian, true to form, let out another "Tt."

"By the way," Bruce added. "I already enrolled her in Gotham Academy. Fortunately before you three started causing trouble. Let's not make it too hard on her, okay?"

Stony glares met him all around the table.

* * *


	5. New Situation

Family Ties Chapter 5 New Situation

Tim looked up from the Batcomputer at the sound of footsteps on the stairway descending from the manor. A bubbly blonde girl his age bounced down. "Hey, Steph!" he called. "How are you doing, babe?"

"Hi, Tim," she replied, kissing him on the cheek and sliding onto his lap. In the process, she dropped her school rucksack and what appeared to be one of Dick's old satchels. "I'm good. Missed you at lunch."

"Sorry," Tim apologised. "How come you're here already?"

"Alfred gave me a lift." He raised an eyebrow. "It's compensation for Bruce telling me to get your homework."

"Just mine?"

"And Jason's, and Damian's."

"Thanks."

"No bother." She looked at the screens. One held the pictures of four dark-haired, blue-eyed young women, and the others were full of files and records. "So how's it going?"

"The facial recognition software threw a dozen hits. Half I was able to eliminate just by looking at them. The software's good, or I'd have had a hundred or so hits, but a well-trained eye's better. Over the past four hours, I've eliminated two of the remaining six possibilities."

"That sounds pretty good."

Tim tried to shrug, but her arms around his neck got in the way. Behind him, he heard the twin roars of motorbikes. He twisted, seeing Dick arrive home, followed closely by red-haired Barbara Gordon.

"Busy?" Dick smirked, pulling off his helmet.

"Not like you two have never taken five minutes to make out," Tim retorted, wrapping one arm around Steph's waist.

"Kid's got a point, Finger Stripes," Babs said, kissing Dick full on the lips. The younger couple looked away as Dick pulled Babs closer.

"Get a room, would you?" Jason's angry voice rang out, forcing them to back from each other. "Don't you have work, Replacement?" he added.

"Don't call me that," Tim muttered automatically as Steph slid out of his embrace. He shook his head slightly, before raising his voice. "Damian! Homework!"

Dick watched as Tim instinctively dodged the throwing knife their youngest brother sent at him as he stomped out of another part of the cave. "Lighten up, Dami," he sighed. "And stop trying to kill Tim."

"We're running out of audio-visual bugs," Damian announced. "And C4."

"Yeah, that was me," Jason said, smirking.

"I so don't want to know what you did with it," Babs, sighed. "And, Steph? Training?"

Sighing, Steph pulled three sheaves of paper from her satchel and gave them to the three younger boys before following Babs to the changing rooms. Tim shrugged. "Guess it's this for a few hours." He headed upstairs.

* * *

Dinner was always much livelier with the girls around. Alfred seemed to appreciate their moderating influence; he always set out better quality china, knowing it was less likely to get smashed. Considering the number of plates Damian had thrown at Tim, and cups Jason had crushed from gripping too hard, it was not surprising Alfred generally gave them the cheapest crockery he could find. But Steph and Babs just being there tended to keep tempers in check, not least because Steph would come to Tim's defence without even a hint of prompting. It was louder, largely because the projectile of choice became cutting insults, as opposed to steak knives.

A side effect was that the swear jar became a lot heavier; beneficial, as Alfred frequently raided it to buy crockery. The list of forbidden words ran to ten pages, covering over a dozen languages and three forms of signs.

Jason was teaching himself Swahili; none of the others spoke it yet, and he could get in at least four swear words before Bruce cottoned on. Maybe not as creative as some of Dick's Romani, but…

Babs had been learning Dutch. All in all, dinner was loud, colourful and somewhat competitive. Most people would be surprised at the fact they all learnt insults easiest; most people would be surprised at the extent of eleven-year-old Damian's cursing vocabulary. Bruce wasn't 'most people'.

'At least it's only swearing. There are definitely worse methods to relieve stress,' he thought, updating the (eleven-page-long) list.

* * *

Tim groaned. His English homework had been relatively easy. A compare/contrast of two of Keats' poems. French would be problematic: "Describe your family, 750 words". It was the word limit that was so difficult; how the hell was he supposed to describe it all in only 750 words?

'I'll just have to write it, and then cut it down,' he thought.

An hour and a half later, the word count read 3,241. Tim sighed. 'I'll finish it tomorrow,' he thought, 'Just print it and get on with the math. Reduction's easier with hard copy.'

There were two printers, one in the Batcave, and one in Bruce's study. The study was probably locked, but he'd been yelled at for using the cave's equipment for schoolwork before. The study was easy enough to open; the lock was for unexpected visitors, like social workers.

Just as Tim finished picking the lock, Dick barrelled down the corridor, wearing his Nightwing costume without gloves or mask. "Get Damian and Jason to the cave. Arkham trouble." He raced off in the opposite direction before Tim could ask questions.

Less than a minute later, they were all in the cave. Bruce snapped at the younger boys to change (they were "officially un-grounded"), while the feed from the Asylum security guards played over the speakers.

"Batgirl and Spoiler, you have the Batmobile. Robin and I will take the Batplane. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, bikes," Batman ordered.

"Any confirmed escapees?" Red Robin asked.

"So far, just Riddler, Harley Quinn… and Joker."


	6. Fear and Loathing

**Family Ties Chapter 6 Fear and Loathing**

Red Robin dismounted from his bike and immediately snapped off a line, going straight up to the roof. He ran over to the opposite side, activating his wings and skimming down to a slightly lower building 370 meters away. They'd been informed of the attack plan on the way, and while the others were securing the Penitentiary (a de facto overflow facility for Blackgate), the High Security Block (now supporting a large hole across three floors) and the Medical Facility (which doubled as an office block), he had been assigned the Low Security Block, which housed 'normal' insane people. Spoiler may have been the better choice for the low-risk assignment, but for two factors. First, getting past the Penitentiary to the correct block without getting attacked was a difficult bit of manoeuvring requiring his flight harness, and Spoiler couldn't use it- it required calibration to the user's specific body weight distribution, and they didn't have time to refit it for her. Second, Red Robin was better at co-ordinating and tracking threats, and the easy assignment gave him leeway to keep tabs on all the different factors, thanks to a new gadget Batman gave him as they were leaving.

"Here's that Waynetech microcomputer you were helping develop," he'd growled. "Prototype. Needs field testing. Don't break it." He'd nodded, eager to get his hands on the smartphone-sized laptop. After weeks of exchanging specs with the R&D section, it was good to see the finished product and start downloading Arkham's personnel and inmate files from the Batcomputer, ready for business.

Now, he was helping the nursing staff herd near-oblivious mental patients into a defendable common room, frequently using the thumb operated miniature keyboard to update the statuses on his list of Arkham inmates.

" _Zsasz contained,"_ said Spoiler through the comms, and his heart burned with pride.

* * *

Spoiler restrained a smirk as she hauled her captive to his feet. Robin had suggested a variation on the usual plan; half the cops and guards waited outside while the other half aided in cleaning house. After a bat took down an inmate, a cop secured the prisoner, freeing the vigilantes from having to worry about their backs or guard the semi-conscious hoards. The cops outside were receiving and guarding prisoners on a rotating system; when one man came out with prisoners, another would go back in in his place. This reduced the risk of enemies reviving and causing more problems as well as giving injured men a graceful retreat. A very insightful plan; Spoiler was reluctantly impressed Robin was capable of such depth.

After less than a minute of pushing Zsasz through the medical facility, she met up with a half dozen guards fresh from a skirmish with Cavalier. Updating Red Robin, she gave Zsasz to a bleeding guard before continuing towards the pharmacy. Batman had stressed that securing the asylum's drug supply was a priority, but she'd kept running into trouble.

It was soon apparent that she was too late. Several orderlies lay around, either screaming their heads off, or still. A faint miasma hung in the air. Even through her full-face mask, she could taste something…off. She rounded a corner, into darkness.

Through the gloom, a spectral figure could just be glimpsed. An eerily familiar figure. "Fa-" gasped Spoiler, before catching herself. It wasn't quite right. She reactivated her comm. "Red Robin. Cluemaster's status?"

" _Sighted leaving premises,"_ he replied. _"Sorry."_

"I think…Scarecrow," she whispered, as her father's ghost approached.

"Well, Steph?" he said. "Aren't you going to help me? Villains can have sidekicks too."

"I'm not a sidekick. I'm a junior partner. And I'd never be yours." She faced he hallucination defiantly. "What do you stand for, incompetent thievery?"

Once she'd been scared of her father's wrath should he find out she moonlighted with Batman and his partners. But now she'd moved up the foodchain, and her father…hadn't. What had she to fear?

A sudden blow to her side sent Spoiler doubling over in agony; old, almost forgotten wounds starting to twinge once more. Another blow from the other side made her lose her balance, sprawling forwards. Twisting, she looked back. There were two- no, the vapours were distorting her vision- _six_ big, muscular men. Another blink- cursed smoky stuff- and they were armed. Rifles, tazers, metal pipes. The phantom pains intensified, fresh agonies rolling through her. Instinctively, she curled up, protecting her organs from the remembered- no, it was real it was happening right now- blows. Something sharp swiped across the joint between mask and collar, and her vision waivered. She looked up, seeing the sadistically sneering visage of her tormentor. Her blood froze.

The past pain consuming her, she shrieked, yelling down the comm, "Black Mask!"

Any reply was drowned out by her screams. She curled tighter in fear. After a seeming eternity of hits and shocks, it ceased. Her bleary eyes caught sight of something red and black.

* * *

Red Robin knelt next to the trembling form of Spoiler. She squealed and pulled away. Sighing, he pulled a ready-prepared syringe from his belt, seized her flailing arm, and jabbed the needle into a weak point in her armour in the elbow. He swiftly pushed the plunger, dispensing the antitoxin, and waited for her to calm.

Spoiler's breathing was still laboured, catching in a manner more in tune with injury than panic. He gently ran his hands down her torso, feeling her ribs, and noted three cracks. Nothing too serious, and it wouldn't ruin her beautiful curves. As always, he was caught by the gorgeous dichotomy of his love's appearance. Her costume was an elegant mixture of her first Spoiler and her Batgirl suits. The suit itself was one of the Batgirl ones; she'd simply removed the bat. But the black face mask and long purple cape, with its hood attaching to her mask, were the same as her first nights as Spoiler. Except stuffed with gadgetry. The combination made her look more beautiful than ever.

She finally lay still, and he could get close enough to pull her breath mask from her belt and slide it over her mouth beneath the covering. The fear gas still hung heavily in the air, and he'd had to pull four men out already. He was just glad he'd thought to get extra bottles of antitoxin on his way over, and use his own breath mask.

"T-T-Tim?" she stuttered, voice muffled by the breath mask.

"It's okay, Spoiler," he replied gently. "You just had to go a few with Crane."

"No, not Crane," she said. "Black Mask. We have to get him!"

For a moment, Red Robin didn't know what to say. Although Spoiler had nearly been killed at Black Mask's hands only a few years ago, he'd been found dead not long after. The gunman's identity was still a mystery. But clearly the toxin had been pretty strong.

"Don't worry," Red Robin told her. "He can't hurt you."

Spoiler just looked at him, then nodded. She tried to stand, but fell over. He carefully lifted her, letting her lean on his shoulder while he tapped his comm. "Batgirl, we need to evacuate the building. There's fear toxin loose. Four civilians, unconscious, outside the pharmacy. I'm inside with Spoiler, two thugs and Scarecrow. She's in a bad way."

As he finished, he saw a dark, pointy eared shadow approach. A black leather glove opened the door. The dark figure stepped into the room.

"Need help?" asked Catwoman.


	7. Sneaking and Striking

**Family Ties Chapter 7 Sneaking and Striking**

Catwoman peered over the perimeter wall at Arkham Asylum unnoticed by the horde of police and guards filling the area. Watching their constantly shifting attention, she shimmied along and flipped into the compound, sheltering beneath a seemingly unattended prisoner-transfer van. From the clamour above her, it was stuffed full of would-be escapees. From the chatter at the front, they were guarded by two cops who'd helped catch them and been wounded. New Bat-strategy. Interesting.

Next problem: finding a Bat who'd listen to the intell she'd picked up. Bruce would listen; Nightwing and Red Robin too. They'd worked together enough for a level of trust to develop. The girls as well - but it was just Batgirl and Spoiler around at the moment, right? Black Bat had most recently been sighted in Hong Kong (not that she was sighted much wherever she was) but knowing Bruce she'd be back sooner or later. He'd been…touchy about his family since the second Robin's disappearance. She'd really have to get the full story about that some time; she kept picking up conflicting rumours. Dead, run away…all she knew was the kid's going had really, really upset him.

But she didn't want to run into Red Hood (he'd taken pot-shots at her once) or the newest Robin. So, which building should she look in? The Bat would probably be in the thick of it in the High Sec block, but so would that little demon of a baby bird. Maybe talk to one of the others first?

In the midst of her deliberations, she almost missed it. A red and black shape with flaring wings swept down, landing beside the collection of vehicles. Red Robin. After a moment rummaging in the rear storage compartment of his bike, he sprinted off and entered the Med Facility.

Smirking slightly, Catwoman slunk out and around the van, taking shelter behind a burned-out guard hut. From the smell of roasted flesh, it _had_ been occupied. Evidently Firebug had been an inmate, though not necessarily anymore. Curling her lip in distaste, she climbed on the remains of the roof, took her whip from her waist and leapt. The whip flicked out and wrapped around a security camera on the side of the Med Facility and, as the bracket snapped, the momentum swung her round so she could grasp a windowsill. Clawed fingers making purchase on the surrounding brickwork, she forced open the window and slid inside.

The first floor was dark and gloomy, filling slowly with smoke. A scream cut through the haze, and another, and another. A girl's scream. Catwoman turned, sprinting noiselessly towards the source. As she approached, she heard other sounds; the screams breaking off into sobs; thuds and grunts; low, muffled voices. The pharmacy. She pushed open the door.

Spoiler was curled up on the floor, breathing heavily, and Red Robin was trying to help her up, while muttering into his comm. At their feet were two thugs, unconscious, with no sign of weapons, and Scarecrow, also out, syringe-glove leaking fluid. "Need help?" she asked.

Red Robin's face was unreadable, but his jerky gesture towards her mouth betrayed a moment of panic. "Mask!" he hissed, voice muffled by his…Oh. Right. _Breath_ mask. She quickly pulled hers from her belt - a gift from the Bat, when she'd decided to pretty much toe the line, along with her current costume of black leather over several layers of Kevlar and smart polymers. Red Robin was speaking again. "We're evacuating the building. Can you take Spoiler?"

Catwoman nodded, supporting the girl. "Picked up some interesting information-" she started.

"Can it wait until we've secured Arkham?" She nodded. "Good. Nightwing says he and Hood can't hold the Penitentiary; maybe a third of the inmates could be busting out any minute, and we need to get the civilians from here to the Low Sec block; it's secure." He knelt, cuffed Scarecrow, and hauled him up as another figure slipped into the room. Batgirl. She bent to pick up the two thugs, her orange hair starting to matt with blood from her own battles.

"I've told the guards to herd the civilians out," she said, leading the way to the fire escape. "And avoid this floor. Spoiler's lot got the ones you pulled out of the gas. If I take them all to the Penitentiary, can you hold the Low Sec block?"

Red Robin nodded. "Yeah. Catwoman, take Spoiler's comm. She'll be out for the rest of the night, bad dose of fear toxin."

"Will she be alright?" asked Catwoman, gently removing the comm.

"I'll give her a check once the block's secured," he replied. She nodded, one of the larger orderlies coming and scooping Spoiler up at Red Robin's request. The crowd split as they left the building; the cops and guards following Batgirl to the Penitentiary and the medical personnel and patients with Red Robin over to the Low Sec block. Catwoman slid the comm around her ear, heading for the gutted High Sec block.

" _-beauty in motion,"_ Nightwing was saying, while Batgirl chuckled.

" _No flirting on the comm-line,"_ growled the Bat.

"Sure you want to say that, tall-dark-n-handsome?" Catwoman asked, jumping through the hole in the second floor into chaos.

* * *

Red Robin pulled a miniature, multi-power flashlight from his belt, set it on low, and shone it in Spoiler's eyes. _'Uneven dilation, not good,'_ he thought, cradling her jaw as he kept her unmasked face turned away from the room's other occupants. "Follow the light, babe, just look at the light," he murmured gently, moving the flashlight left, right, up and down. _'Blood vessels standing out. That's…unusual._ ' He released her, carefully reattaching the mask to her hood, and slipped off her right glove, pulling the sleeve back to her elbow. The veins stood out clearly, her muscles taut with tension. Imploring her to relax, he pulled out a needle and took a blood sample, before giving her another shot of antitoxin mixed with sedative. Spoiler stiffened, and relaxed, falling unconscious. Red Robin laid her out on a spare couch, before looking round at his charges.

The room they were in was usually used as a dining hall-slash-group therapy room. One half had couches and squashy armchairs, the other long tables and stackable chairs. The windows along the outside wall had reinforced shutters specifically for such circumstances. Now, the tables were being used as makeshift beds for the patients evacuated from the Med Facility, and the three dozen or so Low Sec inmates were being watched by about as many doctors, orderlies and assorted care workers. Two couches were blocking the door.

One of the doctors came over. "Will the girl be okay?" she asked compassionately.

"She'll be fine, Dr Whistler," Red Robin said with a wry smile. "Bad dose of toxin. She'll sleep it off and be right as rain." He turned his attention to the microcomputer. Colour coded lists of inmates played across the tiny screen as he updated the records. But when he tried to hack into the cameras, the connection to the Batcomputer collapsed. _'Probably couldn't handle the processing power of the mainframe. It_ _is_ _only a prototype, I guess…_ ' He set it to reboot, just as Nightwing's voice came across the comm.

" _Red Robin, we can't hold 'em all. 'Bout ten, twelve, converging on your position."_

"Copy that, I'm on it." He secured the computer in his belt and hauled the couches from the door. "Barricade this behind me and don't remove it 'til I give the all-clear," he called out behind him, slipping into the hall. He prepped a smoke bomb, readied a handful of batarangs, snapped out his staff, and waited.

When the thugs charged up to his floor, he flicked the smoke bomb with his left thumb while keeping the batarangs clenched in his fingers. His night vision lenses already active, he swept the staff out low, knocking down three. The batarangs flew out, drugged tips downing three more. A few more moments and all eleven were unconscious from a variety of kicks, punches, hits and nerve pinches. "Low Sec re-secured," he reported.

" _Asylum secured,"_ Batman told him. _"Red Robin, report. Who's escaped?"_

He pushed his hair from his face, rubbing a sore rib from a lucky hit. "Give me a minute there, boss."

" _While we wait, who wants to know who was behind this?"_ Catwoman offered.


	8. Allies Slinking Through the Night

**Family Ties Chapter 8 Allies Slinking Through the Night**

Red Hood warily watched the organized chaos surrounding him. Paramedics swarmed around injured cops and guards. The Replacem- _Red Robin_ \- was moving among the vans, putting names to faces and ticking off Penitentiary inmates. A specialized squad had just arrived to de-fumigate the Med Facility. Catwoman had settled the unconscious Spoiler in the Batmobile and was watching over her. Security Chief Aaron Cash was gesturing with his left-hand hook, instructing still-active personnel in returning prisoners to cells. Batgirl and Robin were assisting in restraining High Sec residents in preparation for transport. Commissioner Gordon was speaking to Batman about who knows what. And he himself was planted on the Batmobile's hood with his suit's shirt hitched up to his armpits so Nightwing could stitch up a long, messy and bloody but shallow laceration in his side. He winced.

"Hold still, little wing," Nightwing sighed. "It'll hurt less if you stop twitching."

"Stop fussing, it's fine," Red Hood griped.

"Uh-huh. That's why you're so pale." Nightwing sighed in exasperation. "I think you'll need a transfusion when we get back. I think it nicked the vein. You lost a hell of a lot of blood." He finished sewing, tying off the thread and cutting away the excess. He pulled out a role of bandages. "That was a neat trick you pulled with Two-Face."

"Huh?" Red Hood said, startled by the change in subject.

"Yep. I mean, catching the coin before it lands is _old_ , but I don't think anyone's shot it with paintballs before." Nightwing gave him a sidelong grin before finishing with the dressing and pulling his shirt down. "All done now."

"Finally," Red Hood grumbled, pulling his black leather jacket, heavy with weaponry, back on. He wasn't about to admit he'd been aiming for Two-Face's face (heh) now was he?

* * *

Batman followed Gordon's gaze over to his two eldest. "Glad you've got Hood under control," Gordon said gruffly. Batman inclined his head slightly; it was a group effort, but it was so good to have his prodigal son home. "Mind you," Gordon continued, "the criminal Red Hood didn't have that bat on his chest, Mustn't jump to conclusions. Wouldn't do to just accuse him of murder…" The hidden meaning was clear; Gordon would trust Hood, to a degree, as long as he wore the bat. As long as he identified himself as family. Gordon had made similar comments when Catwoman went from her grey suit to the black. It was his way of giving her - and now Hood - a clean slate.

Cash came over. "Anyone know why so many thugs have these little red welts?" he asked. He wasn't upset, just curious.

"Rubber bullets," Batman said simply. Both men glanced automatically towards Hood.

"Same as the paintballs and tranq darts, huh?" Cash shook his head, amused. "Very effective. Could get to like that boy."

"He's a work in progress," Gordon agreed. Batman just watched as Nightwing wrapped Hood's wound, warmth and love for his brother radiating from his smile. Hood deserved his big brother after all he'd been through. His thoughts were broken by the near-silent footfalls of his third son behind him.

"Commissioner Gordon? Chief Cash? Sir?" said Red Robin, startling the other two with his quiet voice. "I have the figures for the breakout." Batman gestured for him to continue. "Low Sec. No escapes. Two cases of severe panic attacks. Overall, no significant problems." His thumbs tapped his new microcomputer's miniature keyboard, pulling up a new file. "The Penitentiary. Of the sixty inmates, thirteen escaped, seven were killed by either security staff or other inmates, and ten will require hospitalization. That's half the block's population."

"Had worse figures," Cash muttered. Gordon nodded, gesturing Red Robin on.

"The Medical Facility had three guards in for various injuries sustained in breaking up a fight between Jane Doe and Magpie earlier today - well, yesterday - in the mess hall." He glanced up at Cash, who nodded. "The men are fine. They'll require further observation to be sure the evacuation didn't exacerbate the injuries, as will four orderlies, a nurse and a doctor who were caught in the toxin. Other than that, all medical staff are unharmed. There were no other patients at the time of the breakout."

"Lucky," Gordon murmured.

"Protocols, Commissioner," Cash said. "We introduce new ones fairly regularly to try and keep casualties down. But you and Batgirl did great with the evac, kid."

Red Robin inclined his head in gratitude. His performance tonight had, indeed, been excellent, if a little hasty in going to Spoiler's aid. But that could wait, at least until the end of the report. Batman sent him a Look, half-raised eyebrow telling him to continue.

"Right. High Sec. That's not so good. Most of the remaining inmates require medical treatment, mostly breaks and fractures. Escapes…"

"Who?" Gordon sighed.

"Joker, Harley, Ivy, Riddler, Cluemaster, Croc, Lady Vic, Cain."

"Cain?" Batman asked. Strange, he hadn't shown any desire to leave before.

"Yes, sir," nodded Red Robin. "No-one's seen him since before the explosion. His cell's open due to the hole in the wall. We could do a search, but…"

"Don't bother." The three men and one boy looked round at Catwoman, coming over to join the conversation she'd heard through Red Robin's open comm. "Word is he arranged this."

"Any specifics?"

"Not really, Heard someone was looking for a safehouse. Last week got word of a purchase of explosives. Tonight I got the name, and heard what was happening."

"This isn't really his style," mused Red Robin. "He's stealthy."

"Distraction," Batman concluded.

"For what purpose?" asked Gordon.

"Didn't he give Vic some training once?" Red Robin asked. "She's never made it out without help before."

"I also heard Deadshot's coming back," added Catwoman. "Another trainee?"

Nightwing had drifted over, Red Hood following with an almost tangible air of grumpiness. "Vic and Deadshot tag-teamed me once in New York," Nightwing offered.

"In my experience, assassins do not congregate unless ordered." Robin had very nearly snuck up on them; Gordon and Cash hadn't heard his virtually noiseless approach. "Or competing for a contract," he added.

"Vic's cell was forced," Batgirl reported. "Cain's style."

"If they were competing, he would have left her," Robin said.

"What does Cain need two assassins for?" Hood asked doubtfully.

Batman looked at Catwoman. She sighed. "There was one other phrase batted around. I couldn't make heads or tails of it. 'The one who is all'?"

Batman's jaw locked as he thought of his absent daughter. _'Cassandra…'_


	9. I Thought You Loved Her

**Family Ties Chapter 9 I Thought You Loved Her**

Damian wasn't talking. He carefully maintained an air of offended disgruntlement that only moronic plebs would call sulking. Moronic plebs like his… _brothers_. He had good reason to be offended. His father, his _own father_ , was spending the evening with that _slut_ , insulting his mother and half his heritage inexcusably.

Yes, he'd left his mother, chosen his father's family over her League and been declared an enemy of House al Ghul. Yes, he feared that that half his heritage would hurt his new life. But that didn't mean his father should play around with that sneak-thief!

And now she was staying the night. Couldn't she tell when she was not wanted?

* * *

Dick knew Damian was sulking. It radiated off him in waves. He'd deny it, of course. Accusing the scion of the House al Ghul and the Wayne line of sulking was not a mistake you made more than once. Well, twice. Okay, three times.

It was really obvious from the way he stomped around, wordlessly helping restock the vehicles with smoke bombs and medical supplies and shooting glares at all the cave's other occupants, Bruce and Tim at the computer, Jason and Alfred starting a blood transfusion from pre-stocked banks, and Babs and Selina settling Stephanie in the infirmary. The girls would probably stay the night; Babs' dad and Stephanie's mom were used to dinner at the manor turning into a sleepover.

But Dami seemed to have a problem. Not good. And Dami was probably too proud to ask for help, even after the late-night discussion the previous day. He'd have to do something about it himself.

He skipped over and wrapped his arms around his youngest brother. "What's the matter, Little D? I hear you and Bruce did quite a number on Bane. Aren't you proud?"

"Get off, Grayson," Damian snarled. "I hardly think you would be bothered by such matters as gross paternal infidelity." His jaw clamped shut as if he'd said too much.

Dick released him, momentarily unable to formulate a response. Bruce was unfaithful? Sure, he'd been flirting with Lois at the Labor Day Charity Gala, but both Selina and Clark knew he never meant anything by it. Before he could work it out, Bruce had stood and beckoned Damian. "We need to talk."

"What?" Damian said.

"Upstairs. Now," Bruce growled, stalking up and out of the cave. Damian trailed after him.

Dick gazed after his surrogate father, then looked over at the rest of the family. Jason was sitting back on the bed, fiddling with the tube linking his arm to the transfusion bag. He was not-watching in the way that meant he was keeping a close eye in the reflection in the Batcomputer's screen. Alfred had left to move Steph into the more comfortable bay deeper within the cave. Tim had stopped fiddling with his new toy, one screen showing a universal syncing logo and another saving and closing the Huntress research (it would wait until after they'd rounded up at least some of the escapees), and gazed longingly after Bruce and Damian. Then, after a moment, he shook his head dismissively and turned back to the computer.

Even though the gesture hadn't been directed towards anyone, Tim's thoughts were easy to read. _Sure, it would be nice to know what they were saying, but it's too much hassle,_ and _let's not pressure the little demon-bird_. Dami might not be a demon (except to Tim) but Dick couldn't fault his reasoning. Babs slipped over, sliding an arm round his waist and pulling him towards the showers, and, well, Bruce seemed to have it sorted. He wasn't really needed up there tonight.

As he left the main chamber, he just glimpsed Selina, face thunderstruck, sneaking up the passageway.

* * *

Bruce was slightly worn out. The break-out had taken hours to sort out, and if it hadn't been so close to dawn, they'd have started on the round up by now. As it was, he was just glad Alfred had thought to clear his morning so he didn't have any meetings to wake up to. He still wanted to call Cassandra, and tell his daughter to be careful. But first, it seemed his youngest was…jealous.

"Damian," he said, cutting across the boy's semi-coherent tirade. "Simplify, please."

Damian dropped into the study chair in front of the desk. "It's just, I…I thought you loved her."

Bruce dragged another chair round and sat across from him. "Your mother? Yes, I love her."

His eyes were sceptical. "Then how can you mess around with that Kyle woman?"

Bruce shrugged. "I love Selina too." Damian looked confused. A sigh. "Look, let's go back a few years. I had left Gotham and was travelling the world, looking for someone who could teach me all I needed to know for the mission. As you know, I found the League of Shadows. So I met your mother.

"There were other girls, sort of. There was Julie Madison, a family friend. We had some great times, but there wasn't really a spark. She's in Africa with the Peace Corps, left Gotham shortly after I did. A second cousin I was set up with once. Didn't work out…"

Damian smirked. "Kate Kane?" They'd all heard of how she'd been discharged from West Point military academy for breaching 'don't ask, don't tell', and Damian clearly liked the thought of him being rejected for once. Maybe he thought it was just desserts that he'd be jilted at least once, especially with his misguided ideas about true fidelity, and whom one should be faithful to. Bruce mildly wondered if Dick had told his brother their suspicions Kate was Batwoman, and the true nature of her relationship with GCPD cop Renee Montoya, who they were fairly sure was her night-time partner the Question…They could discuss it another time.

"Anyway," Bruce continued, feeling a decade younger just bringing up the memories, "when I first saw Talia, she blew me away. I wanted her speed, her skill, her inner and outer strength, her grace…and I wanted her to join me on the mission, come to Gotham with me and be the focus of a society wedding that would be talked about for decades."

Damian raised an eyebrow. "Tt. That's _not_ Mother."

Bruce smiled ruefully and continued. "Well, no. But I thought she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, after a bit she noticed me too. When I realized she liked me, it was the best thing in the world. Being with her was better than being with Kate, or Julie. And so I asked her to marry me and move to Gotham. She accepted, then asked me to stay with her and help her take over the world from the shadows.

"Our entire engagement consisted of mostly arguing. Eventually I remembered something my father once said: "Love alone does not a marriage make." While I loved Talia, and still do, I couldn't live with her and build a life with her. We're just too different. We were both asking for compromises the other couldn't give. It would never have worked. So I broke it off and returned to Gotham."

"She told it differently," Damian muttered.

"I dare say she did. Neither of us came away very happy. I still love her. She was the first woman I truly loved, and nothing will change that."

"Then why Kyle?"

"Ah, Selina." Bruce felt his lips curling upwards as he thought of the beautiful woman he adored. While the memory of Talia was tinged with regret and heartache, Selina...Selina made him feel hope. "She doesn't have Talia's haughty grace, but her way of moving is uniquely elegant. She isn't as sharp-edged and sophisticated, she's soft and playful. Almost too playful, a bit unpredictable. But when I asked her to stop stealing, she compromised. That's the difference. We were able to reconcile our differences and don't ask for what the other can't give.

"I love her. Maybe more, maybe less, maybe equally to your mother. I don't love Selina less for having loved your mother; I don't love Talia less for having fallen in love with Selina. But Selina…"

"You could build a life with her." Damian looked strangely blank as he concluded.

"I think I could," Bruce agreed. "But we'll have to see." He smiled at his son. "Don't look so worried. You're non-negotiable. I'm not letting anyone get between me and my children, including you." Noting his strangely relieved half-smile, he rose and pulled the boy up. "Now bed. You've got school in the morning."

As Damian left, he picked up the phone and dialled a number in Hong Kong.

* * *

Selina just managed to hide before Damian emerged. The boy's words had worried and angered her so much; she'd been under the impression the string of women Bruce took to functions and such were completely meaningless (because he'd told her so, and Dick had told her, during Bruce's…absence, that he hardly ever looked twice at a woman in private), but the boys would know if there was a new woman in their mentor/father's life. It hadn't occurred to her that Damian would see _her_ as the new woman. It was almost a comfort that the kid would blow up over her and not one of the omnipresent bimbos. For her, Talia wasn't an issue. Bruce had told her about his past love-life when they first started seeing each other off the rooftops. She'd replied with a list of all the foolish but harmless high society chumps she'd stolen from.

She listened as Bruce called Cassandra, and tried to imagine building a life with him. A life with half a dozen children already in the house (she'd never even thought of trying to negotiate that point). A life shared with not just the gruff, rugged hero of the streets she first saw all those years ago, and not just the mercurial and occasionally brilliant playboy billionaire CEO the public saw, but also with the strangely tender father. If they decided to risk it, they might be able to build a wonderful life together. Maybe even 'til death did they part.


	10. A Truce, In Public

**Family Ties Chapter 10 A Truce, In Public**

Jason was smarter than most people realised. Yeah, he'd been bumped down to Sophomore, but that was due to lack of credits. He'd still ended up in AP with the Replacement (Tim, must remember to call him Tim), who'd managed to skip a year when he first came to live with Bruce.

Bruce may have taken him in, but he didn't trust him with his identity or the position of Robin until he'd proved himself physically, mentally and intellectually. He had to get the hang of basic detective work, languages, and the instinctual physics of grappling around the city. He had to learn quickly.

The real problem with school was how restrictive it felt. He'd been free to live as he liked for a few years, and now he had to be places at certain times. It was so frustrating. Which was why he was taking it so badly…

Goldie had somehow picked it up, and had a long talk the afternoon he'd been suspended. Told him to just get the grades and then he wouldn't have to worry about Bruce benching him. The possibility that the old grades-or-bench rule was still in force for him hadn't occurred to him. Well, the work wasn't too bad at least – he _had_ picked up a few things over the years.

Still, that wasn't the most comforting thought half way through Geometry and Pre-Calc. Just because he could do it didn't mean he wanted to. Doing math was like eating sprouts. Ugh.

And then French before lunch. He was already fluent. What fun.

* * *

Tim had been keeping an eye on Jason all morning. He didn't seem to be blowing up again, but they hadn't faced Chemistry yet…

Maybe he'd worked off all the stress in the Asylum last night. They had all seemed mellower at breakfast. Probably relief; that the break-out had been so tame (by Arkham standards), if long, and that they'd worked so well together, better than ever. Tim carefully filed the theory away for later consideration.

Now they had lunch. There was always good food (the school could afford it, if the bills Bruce got were any indication), with quite a variety. But today, Jason had a specific diet, and Tim, on Alfred's orders as well as his own volition, had to make sure he stuck to it.

"Red meat, liver if possible, green leafy vegetables. Remember?" he muttered to the younger of his older brothers.

Jason gave him a dirty look. "Don't tell me what to eat," he snarked.

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Fine, but don't blame me when Alfred gets mad," he said coolly.

Jason grumbled unintelligibly, but got a plate of beef stew, spinach side salad and can of Coke. Suppressing a smirk, Tim chose his favourite chicken casserole, mashed potato and fruit smoothie. They paid with pre-loaded meal cards, and grabbed an empty table. Jason speared a forkful of salad, glared at it and grumbled "I hate spinach," before stuffing it in his mouth.

"Then why are you eating it, idiot?" The boys looked up as one of the boys from their English class (not available as AP, irritatingly) and his two cronies sat opposite them.

Tim glared, answering for Jason, who had yet to succeed in swallowing. "He's coming down with anaemia. High iron diet until it clears up."

The boy (Darren, wasn't it?) sneered. "Can't even talk, huh, street rat? Too thick to go back one year, now too thick to speak for yourself-"

"Hey!" Jason snarled, but he was drowned out by Tim slamming his hands on the table and standing, looming over the other boys.

"Listen," he growled- Bat-growled, even. "You _little boys_ think you know hardship. Your mommy got you the wrong X-box game? I never heard a kind word from my mother before she was killed. Daddy get you a Blackberry not an iPhone? I saw my father murdered and was left standing in his blood. Girlfriend stood you up? Mine was beaten within an inch of her life and she still has nightmares. You think you know what it means to have your life collapse? If you went through a fraction of what I have, you'd go screaming for the hills. And guess what? Jason has had it a thousand times worse. If I had to deal with his issues, I'd break in two. So believe me, it's a testament to his strength that he can even function in society. Going back two years? Piffle. Not fitting into any of your little boxes? That's so far from being a concern it's not even on the horizon.

Tim held still for a moment, watching the shock of his opponents and sensing Jason's confusion next to him. Before anyone could say a word, Damian appeared and slammed down his curry. "Why are you so bothered, Drake?" he asked.

Tim took a breath to calm down. "These…boys…were belittling our brother's intelligence."

Damian frowned around a forkful of rice. "Grayson has intelligence?"

Tim spent a few seconds just blinking past Jason at his youngest brother. Was Damian refusing to acknowledge Jason as their brother? They were both so touchy about family. A tiny, almost miss-able smirk played over Damian's lips. A joke. Would Jason see it like that? Hopefully Jason wouldn't blow up…

Instead, he burst out laughing. "I knew we had something in common, kid," he chortled. Darren and his hangers-on seemed completely unnerved at the sight; they had just received a little horror story, after all. Tim just smiled, relaxing at everyone's reactions, and sat back down to resume eating.

Another tray was set down next to Tim's; Steph had found them. Her soft brown eyes showed some of the pain of last night's hallucinations and the strain of 'normality'. He smiled warmly at his love, draping his left arm around her shoulders. He looked at her meal: comfort food. "Pizza? Fries?"

She shrugged, not enough to dislodge his arm. "I like it. So sue me." Her eyes flickered over to the still-chuckling Jason, smug Damian and stunned schoolboys. "What did I miss?"

Tim quickly relayed the basics of the conversation, skimming over his own speech to get to Damian's punch line. It had been pretty funny. Steph agreed.

"I am so telling Babs," she giggled.

"Make sure Goldie overhears," Jason suggested. "He needs taking down a notch."

The strange little family all smiled and laughed at the thought. Tim could see the bully-boys were now thoroughly intimidated at the abrupt mood change; only Darren's pride kept them from fleeing with their tails between their legs. However, something was bothering Jason. He furrowed his eyebrows in question.

" _Tim, did you really mean all that?"_ Jason asked in Japanese. _"You defended me…"_

He shrugged. _"Of course I did. You're my brother,"_ he replied in the same language (when did Jason pick up Japanese anyway?). _"We may have issues, but let's have a united front in public."_

" _Gold Bird had a talk with you too, huh?"_

" _Actually, I figured that out from watching you two in action last night."_ He put down his fork and steepled his fingers. _"We still have issues. Plenty of them. I know you find our elder brother overbearingly affectionate, but you two worked well together. And you certainly could have made a lot more of a fuss when he was stitching you up. I mean, I did hear you yelling at him afterwards, but out there, you two managed to cooperate. So, if you and he can keep your differences off the streets, we can keep ours out of the classroom. Let's call it truce. We can always re-negotiate later when we've laid to rest our problems with each other."_ He ducked his head, once again shovelling mash into his mouth to hide the fact he'd said more than he meant to. He still caught the decidedly embarrassed note of Jay's reply.

" _Well. Okay then. A truce. In public."_

* * *

Steph didn't recognize the language. It was something oriental, she could tell that much. She'd concentrated on Scandinavian and Eastern European languages, which fit better with her ethnicity. But she could read body language, the dozens of tiny micro-gestures that, when tightly controlled, gave rise to what the rest of their community called "Bat-talk". So she could tell some things.

First, Damian understood every word. Surprise, surprise.

Second, Jason was confused, asking Tim about something.

Third, Tim was a little embarrassed, and hesitant, but sure of his words.

Fourth, they'd reached an agreement, and whatever it was, they intended to stick to it.


	11. Injustice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a lot darker than the others, and dwells somewhat on the nastier side of humanity. Nothing explicit, but there is quite a lot implied.

**Family Ties Chapter 11 Injustice**

Cassandra Cain-Wayne, once Batgirl, now Black Bat, was lurking in the darkness. She was very good at it. Her costume had been modified slightly, a thin jacket replacing her cape and covering the half-faded bat symbol. The cape was actually rolled up in a special pocket in the back, easily accessible if needed. But while she might need to draw on her affiliation with Batman Inc., she wasn't supposed to be there.

She was meant to be in Hong Kong. She'd been in Cebu, the Philippines, for four days.

Her case had shifted. An unusually profitable import/export company turned out not to be working with the local triad, but was receiving suspicious crates from the Philippines. Smuggling. Standard procedure dictated full investigation; from shipping companies and fronts to businesses sending and receiving, to any politicians or officials getting their pockets lined in bribes. Well-recorded, well-documented evidence could do wonders. With that brief in mind, she hadn't risked exposing herself to get at the contraband back in Hong Kong – there hadn't been a safe enough opportunity, and the next shipment wasn't prepped to go yet. Probably arms, or drugs. There'd be later opportunities.

Now, she was lurking in the darkness at the docks, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for another shipment. Waiting for a lead.

Her lead came two hours later in the form of a pair of bored dock hands. "Nah, Hong Kong shipments are every other week, remember? The manifests are in their own file in the manager's office. Every other week, for five years." The man sighed enviously. "Think how many they've shifted by now."

His friend barked with laughter, and they kept going. After a moment, their silent watcher moved away. She had to be in Gotham before the next shipment, but she could get the manifests and maybe trace the supplier. Chances were the shipping firm didn't have knowledge of whatever illegal activity was involved – even Wayne Shipping had unknowingly shifted for a smuggler once. (Bruce had been furious; he'd vowed it would never happen again, and vigorously investigated everyone before letting any future contracts be signed. Dick and Tim went one better; during their time leading Wayne Enterprises together, they leaked a suspicious contract proposal to Commissioner Gordon, who reported it to Batman, who "liaised with Wayne" to catch the recipient red-handed.) But the shipping records were extremely useful when building the case.

Cass padded into the empty manager's office, silently groaning at the sight of all the filing cabinets. This could take a while, unless…let's see, twenty-six a year, five years, one hundred thirty shipments? In one file? Big file. She opened the first cabinet, found all the drawers full of wafer-thin files, and moved on. In the fourth cabinet, she hit jackpot. The 'file' was actually several stapled together. She pulled out a high memory digital camera and photographed each page as quickly as possible. Dawn was approaching as she finished. And the last page had a note, with the address to be notified if the shipment would be delayed. Memorising the address, she returned the file, fixed the lock she'd picked, and left.

* * *

 

The address proved to be a house on the edge of the city. It was deserted when Cass arrived, rosy-fingered dawn softly lighting the sky. She snuck in, planted microphone and camera bugs in every room, then left. She hooked up the bug on the front door to her earpiece, so she'd hear when it opened, and settled down, hidden from sight on the roof opposite. The past few days of long night vigils were catching up, and her eyelids slowly drifted shut.

She awoke some three hours later to the sound of the door banging open. Rolling onto her front, she peeked up, binoculars and camera ready. What she saw made her breath whoosh in and her jaw tighten, and start snapping photographic evidence.

A number of men were pulling girls from a van. Teenage girls, most looking about Tim and Stephanie's age, fourteen. Some looked a little older, closer to her own sixteen years. One or two appeared to be younger. Human trafficking, not arms, not drugs. She mentally cursed her previous decision. She should have gone into that first shipment.

Recriminations later. Action now. Photos connect men, girls and house. House bugged; cameras motion sensitive, microphones voice activating. She couldn't access feed remotely, except for the one on the door, but she could track what was active when. Those girls looked exhausted; they'd probably fall asleep within half an hour.

When they did so, she had special trackers she could hide in their hair.

* * *

 

In a dark, dingy, decidedly shady dive, Cass watched the girls on show, with painted faces and high heels, low necklines and high hemlines. After planting the so far undiscovered trackers, she'd returned to the low-class hotel room she'd rented, written up the night's work in the file she was preparing, and fallen to brooding. Smuggling procedure was to leave street-level operatives until the boss was collared. Kidnapping procedure said to get the civilian out asap. Eventually, she'd decided to keep a close eye on the girls, and try to act anonymously if they needed help but otherwise keep collecting the evidence and hope that she found the boss before the girls needed rescuing. So there she was, in a club in the bad part of Cebu, relying on bugs planted before opening hours to gather evidence.

The patrons were almost exclusively male, many tourists, and all with a certain lustful air to them. Watching the men, the final piece fell into place. A brothel.

She moved through the shadows, her black, disguised costume hiding her figure. Going to a more isolated position, she called the police, reported the forced prostitution of minors, and gave the address before hanging up without letting the man on the other end ask questions. She glued and pressed on her mask, found a hiding place where she could watch and listen, and waited.

Within fifteen minutes, the police arrived. Excellent response time. The lead cop swaggered in, his juniors flanking him protectively. He went straight to the bar, placing his hands on the counter and leaning forward to confront the owner. "I told you, my friend, about making your payments, eh? See, because you didn't, I have to follow up on the tips." He turned round to the other cops. "You know what to do, boys!" he ordered. The others started shifting the patrons out. "Gentlemen, please leave," the boss called out. "Your presence is neither needed nor wanted. Now," he turned to the scared teen girls, watching the proceedings and hardly hoping at all. Strange reaction, they were being saved…

"Okay, then, girlies," the boss-cop continued, grinning sadistically. "You're under arrest for prostitution."


	12. Justice

**Family Ties Chapter 12 Justice**

Cass forced herself to stay frozen in the shadows, horrified. Not even in Gotham, not even at the height of Falcone's Roman Empire and Loeb's stint as Commissioner- But then, Gotham never had much human trafficking.

So, what was her next move?

She could leave the girls in the cops' custody. They _could_ get the care they need, and be returned home.

That seemed unlikely. Action, then. Overt? Covert? Nothing too obvious, she was undercover. But she didn't have time…

The johns were all out. The policemen had started on the girls. Now.

Her belt was well-stocked, as always, neatly concealed beneath her jacket. Fingers expertly diving into the compartments, she removed and released a smoke bomb, activating her night-vision lenses and going back for a large bola. As anticipated, the grunts and owner stampeded for the door, the deviation from the expected routine too much for their limited skills, or paygrade. The bola whipped out, wrapped around the first two, and in bringing then to the floor, tripped the rest of the stampede. The bouncers and the boss-cop moved towards the middle of the room, stumbling over chairs.

Cass moved forward. Her left hand clutched a batarang, and a small, vicious part of her mind had come up with a special use for it. She resisted the temptation, (unless she had need of such an action, as unnecessary mutilation was generally frowned upon by most in her community, no matter how deserving the recipient). The bouncers first. Comparatively incompetent. A few nerve pinches would do the job. The men at the door were still down. They would be for at least ten seconds more. Good.

The smoke was clearing. Standing above the unconscious bouncers, Cass heard the boss-cop behind her. Her left hand lashed out backwards, the vicious desire triumphant as the batarang sank into the man's groin. Oops. Looks like it was necessary after all… A swift punch put him to sleep.

"Girls. Come with me. Be safe," she said in Filipino, binding the cops with their own cuffs.

* * *

Cass' phone rang. Snatching it from next to her laptop, she checked the caller ID before answering. "My mentor."

" _Are we secure?"_ Bruce asked, picking up on the strange greeting.

She glanced round at the girls crammed into her room. "Audience. Not English speaking."

" _No names, then, partner,"_ Bruce replied. _"You didn't answer the apartment phone. Where are you right now?"_

"Um. Cebu. Philippines." She swiftly recounted the events that lead her case to the brothel, and what happened there. "Flattened cops. Bound them. Retrieved bugs. Brought girls to my hotel room. Wrote up file," she finished. "Not sure what now."

Bruce didn't answer for a moment. _"I'm assuming you have evidence against the brothel operators and the cops. Here, you'd get the evidence to the courts and the girls to witness protection. But we don't have anyone there, day or night…"_ His voice tailed off, clearly trying to think of someone outside Wayne Enterprises or Batman Incorporated. _"There's a number of non-government organisations working to counter human trafficking in that area. Contact one of them. Duplicate and share your evidence."_

"Yes, sir," Cass replied, opening her computer and starting a search. "Why you call me?"

Bruce was choosing his words carefully. _"A certain man in a certain institute to whom you are related arranged his violent release a few hours ago. It is thought he is after the One who is All."_

Translation: "Cain broke out. He's after you. Be careful."

"Understood. I intend to return as planned. Goodbye, mentor."

* * *

Within two hours, Cass had set up a meeting with a representative of International Justice Mission. The name had rather appealed to her, sitting on the list of licenced NGOs. Even though she'd been deliberately vague, merely saying she had evidence of dealings that fell within their sphere of activity, the man on the phone had agreed to send someone (a woman, Cass' request) to meet her at a secluded little café.

The sky was already beginning to darken. Hopefully the woman wouldn't be scared.

As Cass sipped the tea she'd ordered, she watched the door, occasionally flicking her glance in other directions. At the prescribed time, a woman with dark hair but non-oriental skin and eyes entered. Her clothes said 'neat tourist', but her body language gave other tells. Professional, nervous, uncertain. As she looked around, Cass cleared her throat, raised a finger and beckoned. "IJM?" she asked quietly as the stranger approached.

"Yes. How did you know?" Cass smiled mysteriously and gestured at the seat opposite.

A waitress appeared. "Your orders?"

"Another chai tea. Something for my friend. On my bill," Cass said.

The other lady, stammering slightly, ordered black coffee, and waited until the waitress left. "I'm guessing you're our mystery caller?" she asked. Cass nodded. "I'm Audrey Martin. How can I help you, Miss…?"

"Clara." Cass gave a name she'd used before, and had cards for. "I can help you."

"Really? What do you have?" Cass picked up the computer next to her and opened it, but before she could pull up the file, the waitress returned with the drinks. Putting down enough money to cover the drinks as well as a generous tip, she waited until they were once more alone before playing the video file.

The events of the previous evening started to play out, from shortly before the police arrived until the smoke bomb, where she stopped the playback. Audrey sighed, unwilling to look at the teen. "We've seen that happen before, I'm afraid," she said. Cass nodded sadly; she'd expected that. "Do you know where the girls are now?"

Cass held herself still; the body language equivalent of refusing to reply. Saying nothing, she resumed the video, letting the fight play out. Audrey slowly looked up to the girl opposite. Cass didn't meet her eyes.

"You know, I'm from Metropolis," Audrey said slowly. "I'm guessing you're one of Batman's lot, and your name isn't Clara."

Cass inclined her head. "Not permanently assigned. Tracking smugglers…"

"Then you found out what happens in these parts." Cass nodded. "Look, I don't know how you usually do things, but that film? We've never got anything like it. We _need_ it. So, please, can I have a copy?" Audrey's eyes were pleading.

Cass set a flash drive on the table, and pushed it over. "Partial case file. Link between brothel and shipper. Five years of manifests. The video. Other evidence." As the older woman reached for the computer chip, she tapped the laptop. "The video. How important?"

"Short term, it's possibly the best evidence we could have against the policemen, and pretty good against the pimps to. But you know what else? If it got leaked to the UN and the world media? It could make our job a lot easier."

She nodded, flicking one of her 'Clara Kane' cards over the table. "I can do that. If you need more, contact me." The number was a private line her sources had, not the personal line her family had. The email address was just one more hidden in a vast public access system.

"Thank you," Audrey said, tucking away the drive and card. "Now please, can you take me to the girls?"


	13. Follow Up

**Family Ties Chapter 13 Follow Up**

Clark Kent, called by some Kal-El of Krypton and most widely known as Superman, was ever so slightly perturbed. His Justice League partner _(and, technically, ultimate boss)_ Batman _(Bruce Wayne)_ had left him a message saying there was a really important story he  had to cover, and there would be details at the office. But the phrasing wasn't Bruce's normal style- although who else would have access to his JLA comm channel? _(His children…)_ So he'd gone on a quick flight, hovered outside Gotham, and turned his super-senses on Wayne Manor. He quickly picked out the occupants, either sleeping or starting to rise. All seemed well, down to the blocked view of the cave. Shrugging, he'd returned home. Surely it would become clear later.

All that in mind, it wasn't a surprise to be pulled into the editor's office. Perry White's words were.

"Lane, Arkham trouble last night. I want the scoop on what happened by evening edition. Also, Kent, Wayne's sent us a story in the Philippines. He wants you to cover it, and he's even sent his jet to get you there. Seventeen hour journey, so get going."

Perry shoved a file into his hands and pointed him out the door.

* * *

" _H'lo, Wayne Manor."_

Clark sighed in relief; he'd feared he wouldn't get through. "Dick? It's Clark."

" _Oh. Hey."_ The acrobat sounded still half asleep, even at ten in the morning. _"We had pretty long night. Arkham break-out, y'know. Guess you want the scoop?"_

Clark frowned. "No, Lois has the Arkham story. I've been sent to the Philippines."

" _You have? What's happening there?"_

"According to the video, child prostitution and police corruption."

" _Nasty. Hang on, what video's that?"_

Clark paused. "You don't know? I was told it came from Bruce."

" _Not a clue. Like I said, we've had Arkham trouble all night. You sure it's from Bruce?"_

"Perry said the story was from him, as is the loan of a jet, and I got a message on my comm with his tag."

" _I don't know. Don't see when Bruce could have got anything like that, he hasn't been out of Gotham for months, not sure who else it could have been."_ There was a pensive pause, and then, _"Bruce!"_

Clark extended his hearing, but quickly remembered that the phone's reception wouldn't pick up the reply. Instead, he focused on Gotham, honing in and bypassing the phone. _"- is it, Dick?"_ he heard.

" _Clark's on the phone. Asking about a story in the Philippines we have an interest in?"_

" _There's a case being dealt with. You'll hear more later."_

" _Yeah, but it's Clark asking."_

" _He's meant to be an investigative reporter. He should be able to work it out without running to a detective to do his job for him."_

Dick chuckled. _"You get all that?"_

"Yes, I heard. He sounds especially grumpy this morning."

" _Long night. You know how it is, with Arkham trouble."_

"How was the break-out?"

" _Relatively light. Thirteen Penitentiaries, Joker, Harley, Ivy, Riddler, Cluemaster, Croc, Vic, Cain. Stephanie got fear gassed pretty bad and Two-Face gashed Jason, but other than that, fine."_

"I'd say good, but that's not really appropriate. Mind if I pass it on?"

" _Nah, Lois knows what to keep out of the article. Just send a message when you've worked out your story."_

"I will. Goodbye, Dick."

* * *

There were advantages to private jets. For example, there were no fellow journalists to stop him from slipping out. In the fifteen hours since calling Dick, Clark had only spent five on the jet, three of which he was asleep and the other two getting some background and setting up a meeting with a recommended contact named Audrey Martin. The rest of the time, he'd attended a (Bat-free) JLA meeting to discuss a few remaining issues from the latest alien invasion, put out a fire in downtown Metropolis, helped Wonder Woman in a skirmish with Cheetah, answered a plea from a relief aid group in Uganda to counter a cholera epidemic by drilling a well and flying in five hundred doses of sugar-salt replacement medicine, and then taken Lois out for dinner before she left Gotham after filing the Arkham story via email.

He'd also tracked down Tim after school, who proved to also be oblivious to the story. At least he got a look at Stephanie and Jason. They both seemed to be recovering nicely.

Usually, Bats kept each other in the loop.

While the story itself seemed to be relatively normal, the unprintable behind-the-scenes activity was some of the strangest he'd seen since Jason Todd-Wayne had supposedly run away.

* * *

Cass was getting nervous. Ms Martin had called, saying there was a very respectable journalist interested. She'd wanted to know if Cass had arranged it, and if she wanted to talk to him. Cass danced around the first, but accepted the second. Of course she'd arranged it, and Clark/Superman needed to know what he could and could not say. This was the quickest way to achieve this, even if she had to speak quieter than the human ear could detect.

Besides, as nominal leader-slash-spokesman of the Justice League, he should probably be apprised of the situation. The chances of Bruce bringing up the matter were small enough to be negligible.

Which meant that, at four in the afternoon, way too early, she was hanging around the outside of International Justice Mission's office, eavesdropping on Clark and Audrey's meeting as a prelude to sneaking in for her own.

It went very neatly, very professionally. Audrey explained that "an anonymous source" had handed over a computer file containing shipping manifests leading to a safe house in the suburbs, surveillance photos of a number of teenage girls arriving at the house, and finally the controversial footage that had landed in the _Daily Planet_ 's inbox. She detailed how she'd then been able to take the girls to their clinic, and listed ages and hometowns for all nine. Clark asked how she'd got custody of the girls; Audrey said that her source "removed them from police custody". When she was asked if she condoned the action, she gave what Cass knew would be considered a great quote: "Look, what happened there that night? It's _not that unusual_. You get it? All too often, we've seen girls who have been sexually abused while in police custody. There have even been cases of the girls being sold back to the brothel owners and traffickers. Am I glad the police were assaulted? Not especially. Am I glad the girls are in our care, not theirs? You bet."

* * *

Clark couldn't really respond to that. Instead, he moved on to ask about potential court cases. He felt slightly dazed with heart-sickness at the barbarity of humanity, going through the questions and asking to interview the victims.

He spoke to three of them, all with the same story. They'd been promised a better life in Japan, Europe, America. Instead, the found themselves in the sex trade. It was only thanks to "the Dark Angel" that they weren't raped.

While there were other girls, other incidents, other cases, Clark knew that it would be more hard-hitting to give extreme detail of the one case, and then conclude that it was, comparatively speaking, a mild case. Adding the minutiae of other cases would cloud the story, and the saying "One hundred deaths is a tragedy, one thousand a statistic" applied to matters other than death. Better to get the reader's sympathies firmly on his side, with this specific incident, then say there were more. Charity advertisements worked on the same principal. The one story would galvanise the reader to sponsor NGOs and get the wheels of politics moving.

After that, Audrey took him back to her office to meet her source, the "Dark Angel".

* * *

Cass had followed Clark, listening to his interviews. It seemed to be fairly comprehensive. But he didn't know it was her…did he?

He did. The lack of genuine surprise showed in the set of his shoulders. Stupid X-ray vision. No wonder the cave was lead coated.

He held off his questions until Audrey left and his glowing eyes checked the room over. "We're secure, Cass," he murmured. "Tell me what you want."

"A tell-all," she said frankly. "What happened. How often. Let the world know."

"Do you want the Justice League involved?"

She bit her lip. "Maybe. I don't know," she admitted. "B Inc operative ideal, but I don't know. Talk to Bruce?"

"Of course. He won't be mad at you for lending me the jet?"

Cass smirked. "He not use it. Not while Joker loose in Gotham. I take responsibility."

"Fine. Two things. One, call Dick. I think he's curious. Second, I need a little more information for the article. No names, obviously."

"Can't say everything. Still trying to get the bosses."

"Just a quick interview."

Cass smiled. She still had a lot to do before going home in two days, but for now, she was confident. Bruce wouldn't have done this, but it was the right thing for the circumstances.


	14. A Plant's Life

**Family Ties Chapter 14 A Plant's Life**

Robinson Park was quiet. Nightwing refused to think 'too quiet', which was usually a precursor to a Joker attack. But…abnormally quiet. There was no rustling from birds or the small animals that made the park their home; as though they were no longer welcome. A sure-fire sign of Poison Ivy's presence, if the dense walls of trees and bushes cutting off the north-west quarter weren't enough. Red Robin and Spoiler had found the barrier last night – Robinson was one of the first places to look when Ivy bust out – and they were monitoring it for activity. Which led to a certain former Boy Wonder sitting in a tree since sundown.

' _Four hours I've been here,'_ he grumbled to himself. _'Switch off at midnight. Just two more hours…'_ He briefly entertained himself by listening in on the comms. Batman had dragged Red Hood and Robin down into the sewers to help search for Croc, and Batgirl, Spoiler and Red Robin were patrolling in search of the other escapees. Most of the comm traffic consisted of the ones below ground checking off each tunnel.

His musings turned elsewhere. Someone (*cough* Kal-El *cough*) had left a copy of the morning's _Daily Planet_ on the dining room table before breakfast. Reading between the lines (where someone had helpfully been writing in blue), it was fairly easy to see what Cass had been up to. Just as well; when she'd called at noon, she'd been unusually evasive. Sounded like she hadn't asked Bruce before getting Clark involved.

Bruce had seemed grumpier than usual that morning…Oh well.

Feeling his limbs starting to cramp, again, Nightwing glanced down, judging the distance between his branch and the boughs beneath. Then he hooked his knees around the branch and fell backwards. The rough bark scraped against his legs in exactly the same way his frequently-polished trapeze didn't. He caught a lower branch, wound his way among the tree limbs, and settled into a new perch.

Just in time to see a fissure appearing in the artificial hedgerow.

He leaned forward, craning his neck to peer into the gloom. He touched his earpiece, cutting across Spoiler's report of a breaking-and-entering at a jewellers'. "Ivy's moving. Can't see what she's up to. Shall I investigate?"

" _Proceed with caution,"_ Batman instructed. _"Red Robin, Batgirl, Spoiler, back him up."_ A trio of affirmatives came in response.

Nightwing dropped down from the tree. He gazed into the gloom within the plant enclosure, and flicked on the night vision lenses in his mask. Everything turned green, which wasn't much help; the dark green blobs were now slightly lighter green blobs. Grimacing, he switched off the lenses and set his flashlight to mid-power instead.

He stepped into the over-grown undergrowth. About five feet in, his foot caught on something. He looked down, seeing a thin vine coiling around his left ankle. He tugged gently, and it tightened. Then another latched around his right wrist, jerking it and making his flashlight fall. He held still. Batman would charge through, angering Ivy but showing he meant business. Red Robin preferred not to make any aggressive move until he'd given her a chance to surrender.

Nightwing snorted. _He_ wasn't going to use brute force to make his way forward, damaging the plants and angering their protector, or wait for the obsessive plant-o-phile to come see what was caught in her mousetrap. He reached up and gently prised the vine away from his arm, unwrapping it as carefully as he could. Then he crouched, retrieved his flashlight and freed his ankle.

He rose and kept going, ducking and weaving. After about 75 metres, he made it through to a vast moonlit clearing, full of flowers and shrubs. He tucked away the flashlight, and stepped out.

The tree next to him seemed to twist, a branch whipping around at chest height. Nightwing stepped back, banging into a branch that had appeared behind him as the first stopped mere inches from where he had been. Before he could duck and move on, the vines returned, covering and restraining his arms and legs. As he struggled, more wrapped around his waist, then his head. He felt thorns press into his neck not yet breaking skin and, recognizing the threat, held still.

The branches moved aside, opening a way forward. The vines started pulling, new ones bringing him forward as old ones released and fell away. _'Like pass-the-parcel,'_ he thought, wincing as a new thorn scraped uncomfortably close to his jugular. _'Wonder what happens when the music stops…'_ "I can walk, you know," he said aloud. No response from the plants, obviously.

Finally, the plants stopped pulling. Nightwing started wriggling, just trying to get more comfortable, when he was yanked sideways and slammed into a tree, his hands drawn well away from his waist, and belt. "What was that for?" he grumbled.

"We don't want you absconding, now, do we?" came a sultry female voice. Poison Ivy emerged from her plant grotto, hips swaying provocatively.

"Hey, Pam." The lady winced at her old name. "Sorry. Ivy."

"Nightwing," she replied, pacing and surveying her captive. "Could be worse…" she murmured.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Robin's sense of aesthetics is somewhat lacking. But I just love what you've done with the place."

"Really?" She seemed proud and amused in equal measure.

"Oh yeah." Bit of flattery never hurt. "Like that bit over there." He tried to point, but couldn't move his arm and nodded in the vague direction instead. "The one with the pale pink roses and bright yellow crocuses. Beautiful. I mean, neither should be in full bloom in September, but still. Gorgeous." He sighed theatrically. "Be a pity to burn it. But, you know, if you insist on putting up a fight…"

Ivy preened a bit before responding, "You asking me to surrender? Oh, I don't know. I really don't."

He felt the vines tightening, thorns all over trying to pierce his skin. The ones on his neck sank in deep, and a few more pricks registered at weak points in his suit. Everything began to swim, and then there was a beautiful girl kissing his cheek.

"Your hair's really nice," he slurred. "I mean, really, really pretty. An' the way the moon's shining off it just so, it's so lovely."

"You really think I'm lovely?" the girl said. "Then will you tell me something?"

Anything for the lady. "Sure!"

"Where is Batman's secret hideout?"

His face fell. Pretty girl asked, he should answer the pretty girl. But he couldn't tell her that, could he? Her fingers ran through his hair, she was waiting…

A dark figure dropped onto her. Woah, another, even prettier girl! Her hair was a finer shade of red, her clothing black and highlighting each curve. What was she called again? He should know, he knew this gorgeous example of womanhood. Something to do with a bat…

"Hands off my boyfriend," she growled.


	15. Hell Hath No Fury

**Family Ties Chapter 15: Hell Hath No Fury**

Batgirl shook her head slightly. "Look, I only stopped as a courtesy," she said, irritated at the two…newbies.

"Yeah, thanks, but we're doing just fine," replied Batwoman, folding her arms.

Her partner snorted from the shadows. "Why did you think we needed your 'courtesy'?" Question asked.

"Information," Batgirl replied, looking Question straight in the eye…spaces. "That's what you seek, is it not?"

"I reckon we've got it all," Batwoman replied. "About the break-out?"

"Names and numbers," Question said. "Cain arranged it. Deadshot returning to Gotham."

"You know what Cain's after?"

They glanced at each other. Question shrugged. "Some riddle. Can't be too hard to work out."

"It's not a riddle," Batgirl said. "It's a name. For Black Bat."

"Black Bat? Heard she isn't even in the country," Batwoman commented.

"She will be tomorrow," Batgirl replied. "If you keep out of Cain's way, he'll probably leave you be."

"Telling us what to do?" Question sneered.

"Call it friendly advice. If you get in his way, you will come out worse. Most of us would." The two older, less experienced crime fighters didn't respond. Batgirl sighed. "The offer's still open, if you want a more permanent association."

"And be under Batman's control? No thanks," dismissed Question. Batwoman just looked thoughtful.

Batgirl pressed on. "I wouldn't call it control. He trains us, equips us, gives us missions within our abilities, assigns us back-up when we need it. In exchange, we stay in contact while on patrol, get reassigned if necessary, and occasionally pulled from the field if we're out of our depth or needed for mission control. And of course, there's all the information we have access to."

She was going to press on (because Batman _did_ like a level of control over Gotham vigilantes) when her earpiece buzzed. Someone had gone on all channels. She touched it, listening as Nightwing alerted them to Ivy's activity, and Batman ordered her, Red Robin and Spoiler to join him. "On it," she said, then flicked it off. She looked back at Batwoman and Question. "Think about it. Working with us could save a life one day. Maybe yours." She pulled out her grapple, preparing to leave, when Batwoman spoke up.

"If we did join up, you'd want our identities, right?"

Batgirl smiled. "How do you know we don't already have them?" she said mysteriously, before jumping and swinging off towards the action.

* * *

Red Robin heard a soft patter to his left. Without stopping, he glanced over, a smile gracing his lips when he saw Spoiler shadowing him. They ran parallel courses, swinging and jumping from roof to roof until they reached the park.

Batgirl was just ahead of them, moving through the trees towards Ivy's clearing. Red Robin caught sight of Nightwing tied to a tree, a smear of lipstick on his face and Ivy leaning on him, before Batgirl jumped, literally on top of her.

"Hands off my boyfriend," she snarled, before a branch whacked into her, knocking her down. Both women struggled to their feet, and Batgirl sucker-punched Ivy, then kicked her in the face. A stinging nettle behind her grew five feet tall, smacking into her jaw. "Keep your lousy plants out of it, you floozy!" Batgirl screeched.

Red Robin turned to Spoiler, who seemed to be in shock. Not surprising; gentle, well-mannered Babs Gordon was fighting like an alley cat and screaming like a fish wife. "Uh, how about we take out the plants and leave Batgirl the lady?" Spoiler nodded. He snapped out his staff to half-length, grasped a nice, sharp batarang in his other hand, and entered the fray.

The next few minutes were nothing but focus; focus on beating back the plants, cutting them down, and not getting hit by flying thorns. Eventually, the leaves stopped flying. Ivy was lying on her stomach, pinned down with Batgirl kneeling on her back, one hand twisted in Ivy's hair and was repeatedly slamming her face into the ground. "I think she's unconscious," Spoiler squeaked.

Batgirl released her opponent, stood up, and snatched Red Robin's (now slightly blunter) batarang without a word. She slashed through the vines holding Nightwing, freeing him. He stumbled forward, before righting himself, just in time to be slapped across the face by his still irate girlfriend. "And _what_ do _you_ have to say for yourself?" she demanded.

"You're beautiful when you're angry."

" _That's what you always say!_ " she growled, hands on her hips.

"Can't think of anything else," he slurred, swaying on his feet. "You're just that gorgeous…"

Red Robin watched, incredulous. Then, he tapped his earpiece. "Hey, Baby Bird. Remember what you said about our dear eldest at lunch yesterday? Starting to think you had a point…"

Spoiler snorted with laughter, but it was Red Hood who replied. _"Excellent. What's he done now?"_

"He's acting kinda drunk…"

At that moment, Nightwing stumbled and fell over, half-dragging Batgirl down with him. After a moment, she looked back at her fellows. "He's going green," she told them.

They hurried over. Batgirl was already preparing the all-purpose anti-toxin sedative, and sunk the needle into his neck. Red Robin spied a thorned vine with specks of blood on it. He examined it carefully; when he snapped a thorn, it oozed a viscous sap. He quickly opened a comm channel. "Red Robin to base. A, can you remote pilot the Batmobile to Robinson Park? Nightwing's drugged up on one of Ivy's concoctions." He lowered his voice. "Find some excuse to screen Batgirl, too; she's a bit over-aggressive."

" _Of course, Master Tim,"_ Alfred replied.

Soon, the big black car was pulling up by the gates. Between them, they manipulated the semi-conscious acrobat into the passenger seat. Batgirl slid behind the wheel, samples from the vine secured, and drove off.

Red Robin and Spoiler went back to check on Ivy. Still unconscious, still bound, nose still broken, bump on her forehead _still_ growing. Red Robin thought they'd forgotten something, but what was it?

"So," Spoiler said brightly. "Are we waiting for the cops, or do we drag her back to Arkham ourselves?"


	16. Mild Dose of Revenge Plotting

**Family Ties Chapter 16 Mild Dose of Revenge-Plotting**

Dick opened his eyes, and quickly closed them again. The light streaming into the room felt like daggers on his retinas, contributing to his pounding headache. "Ow, my head," he moaned, before realising just how cliché that was. He tried to think back and deduce what had caused his current state. "Roy, did you get me drunk again?"

"No," came an amused, feminine voice. He cracked open one eye, focusing blearily until he could see the Asian girl next to him.

"Cass?" he said. "Thought you weren't getting back 'til lunchtime."

"That was two hours ago," she told him.

"Oh." His stomach grumbled, confirming it. "What happened last night?"

"Ivy drug you," she said simply. "This nice. Me home, not fear for ribs." She grinned cheekily. "I tell Alfred you awake now."

By the time she returned, followed by not only Alfred, but also the boys, Steph and Babs, Dick had managed to lever himself into a sitting position and retrieve his aspirin from the cabinet next to the bed. Alfred set on his lap a tray with soup, a sandwich and a large glass of something muddy-looking. "Drink your medicine first," Alfred told him.

"What is it?" Dick asked, glaring suspiciously at the glass.

"It'll suck the toxin from your blood. We couldn't find the specific antidote, so it's this or we stick you full of needles, flood your system with general antitoxins, and hope." Tim told him helpfully. "It got us worried."

Dick gulped the medicine, and eyeballed his other brothers. "You all came to check on me?"

Damian 'tt'-ed and Jason smirked. "We just came to make fun of you again."

"Again? Just what happened last night?"

"What do you remember?" Bruce had come in without them noticing. He pulled out the desk chair and sat down next to the bed.

Dick finished the drink, set aside the glass and picked up the soup spoon. "After I called in, I went into the grove. Couple of vines tried tangling me. Got them off, didn't break them. Then I got to this clearing, and some thorny vines kinda tied me to a tree." He ducked his head sheepishly. Bruce just nodded; not the first time, probably not the last time, Ivy managed to tie one of them up. "Anyway," Dick continued, "I tried the usual tactics, bit of flattery, spare-the-plants-if-you-surrender, you know. Then it gets a little hazy. Guess that was when I got drugged. Er, she suddenly seemed really pretty."

"Was she indeed?" Babs muttered jealously.

Dick flushed and continued. "-And I had to do whatever she said, but then there was an even more beautiful girl, and I think she slapped me across the face. Not sure. It's all a bit of a mess."

"At least you correctly identified your girlfriend as prettier than Ivy," Tim said cheerfully, sitting at the foot of the bed. Noticing Steph glaring at him, he continued extravagantly. "Of course, as is truly said, 'beauty is in the eye of the beholder', and so, I fear I must reject all claims of being the most gorgeous example of the female of the species, save that of the fair and lovely Miss Brown."

Steph threw herself into his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck possessively, and looked around haughtily, as though to say _'_ _ **That**_ _is how to compliment your girl'_. Dick started feeling decidedly uncomfortable. Babs opened her mouth to say something, her face showing signs of an imminent temper tantrum, and-

"As refreshing as it is to hear you getting along," Bruce interjected dryly, "What was Ivy after?"

"Um, she asked me something," Dick answered, frowning. "I remember feeling like I had to answer to please her, but the answer wasn't something I could tell her. She stopped asking before I could decide."

"What was the question?" Bruce asked.

"'Nightwing, Nightwing, tied to a tree, who's the fairest girl you see?'" Jason said under his breath, sniggering. He received several dirty looks, and was promptly ignored.

"I'm trying to remember," Dick moaned, staring at the remnants of his meal.

"Too busy ogling, were you?" Babs grumbled. Dick looked at her in confusion, then glanced at all the others one at a time.

"Too little progesterone," Tim mouthed.

Dick's eyes widened, and he quickly turned back to the memories. Anything other than pregnancy-stimulating hormones. "Something about a base? Yeah, that's it. She was asking me where our secret base is."

"Why would Ivy want to know that?" Damian asked.

"We'll ask her tonight," Bruce said. He put a hand on his eldest's shoulder as he rose, "Leslie said to take it easy for the rest of the weekend. She'll check up on you tomorrow evening to see if you're well enough for classes on Monday."

"Sure." While bed rest was never an attractive prospect, it was only to be expected. Dick sighed, put his tray on the bedside table, and felt his girlfriend squirm into his arms.

"I hear comm traffic from last night," Cass said unexpectedly, taking the just-vacated seat. They all turned to look at her, Bruce pausing in the doorway. "Was wondering, what Damian say about Dick?"

"Oh, that." The younger three boys all started smirking, and Steph giggled. "You see-" Tim launched into a recounting of the conversation that left the girls laughing like there was no tomorrow, and Dick flushed with embarrassment.

"Definitely worth waiting for, eh, Dami?" Jason said, elbowing his grinning kid brother.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Tim, exactly what was the other boy saying about Jason?" he asked, the steely tone of his voice suggesting an imminent over-protective rage.

"The usual stuff," Tim said quickly. "It was Darren Swift. Dad runs Swift Transport, relatively old-money family. Think they're further up the social ladder than they really are, look down on the 'common folk'." He paused. "Now I think about it, I think they were good customers of my parents'…other business."

Dick jerked in surprise. Tim customarily avoided all mention of the smuggling business his parents had engaged in, until it left Janet dead, Jack crippled and in prison, and their son taken in by godfather Bruce. "So he's one of those guys who'll be practically running the place in twenty odd years? He'll have to be taken down a notch or two."

"You know, I was thinking, maybe Selina should make a house call," said Tim, slyly. "Take the family silver, and all those things they ought not have. Then Matches Malone sets up an auction. Jason, being a street boy with connections, hears about it and, in a spirit of reconciliation, passes on the information to his classmate."

"Then he owes Jason. Good," Bruce said.

"Better." Tim squirmed in Steph's embrace, shifting her weight off his neck. "Jason casually tells his sister, brothers and their girlfriends over dinner. Then Babs, unaware that the Swifts might have had…sensitive items stolen, has no qualms with telling her father there's a sale of stolen objects. Gordon arranges a raid. If the Swifts are smart, they'll deny all knowledge of the artefacts."

"Tim, that is brilliant," Dick praised. "Perfect revenge. Teaches 'em to respect us, and not to buy smuggled artefacts."

"Start working on the logistics," Bruce said. "It _is_ brilliant. But we'll leave it a few weeks. Deflect suspicion. Besides," he grimaced. "We're busy right now."


	17. A Touch of Speed

**Family Ties Chapter 17 A Touch of Speed**

Dick lounged in the chair at the Bat-computer, one leg hanging over the arm while he idly flicked through an old cold case and kept an eye on the trackers and an ear on the comm traffic on the center screen. Batman, Red Hood and Robin were still down in the sewers, and a large planning map was slowly getting sections marked off. Tim had suggested just permanently seeding the tunnels with motion sensors, but they didn't have anywhere near enough, not ones with the special attachment so they could withstand the floods. Another project for when they were less busy.

Another screen was running through Tim and Jason's pet revenge project, searching through over a hundred files of smuggled and sold items to find which had ended up in the Swift household. The files had been on the system for ages- Tim had uploaded them when he found the discs after his father's murder. But they'd never been used. Tim couldn't bear to look through them, and no-one else found the time. On the other hand, this was the first time they'd found a use for them.

Manipulating Bruce's peers could be so much fun.

The screen blipped, finding a ninth match. It was only halfway through, too. Boy, these guys were rich (relatively speaking) – the average price was nearly twenty thousand dollars. All that money, wasted because the kid felt self-righteous and made fun of the wrong guy, and so offended the people who could _and would_ use any and all dirt against him.

The Wayne family protects its own.

Forcing himself to focus on his own work, he turned back to the cold case. A breaking-and-entering in a prestigious antiques boutique, leaving the owner dead. An inferior batch of Joker venom had been used, but it wasn't the Clown Prince's style. More suggestive, all that was stolen was a golden figurine of the Egyptian cat-goddess Bast. That would indicate Catwoman, but leaving bodies wasn't _her_ style either. Still, he'd ask her. She may well have heard of it at least.

The external comm buzzed. " _Watchtower to Batcave, come in._ "

Dick hit the reply button. "Batcave, Nightwing here. What's up, Superman?"

Another voice cut across the Kryptonian. " _Hey, you're there? Can I deliver in person and, you know, hang out?_ "

Dick rolled his eyes. The youngest of the Flashes, once the first Kid Flash, had been his friend for years, and relished every opportunity to see the inside of the Batcave. "Come on, mate, you know the Bat's rules about metas in Gotham…"

" _I'll be good, I promise. I won't leave the cave. Not unless he says so._ "

' _It would be nice to see Wally again,'_ Dick thought. "Fine," he said aloud. "But you take the flak if he doesn't like it."

"No worries," said the voice from behind him. He turned around to see the Scarlet Speedster nonchalantly leaning against a display case with half a dozen trick umbrellas. He closed the comm channel on Superman's gentle chuckling, and turned back to his friend. "You're not suited up," Flash noted. "And you're not on the streets. Why are you not on the streets?"

"Doc's orders," Dick replied. "Got poisoned two nights ago. So, you know. Benched."

"Sucks," Flash agreed. "Who got you?"

"Ivy."

He whistled. "Well, at least it was the pretty one."

Dick groaned. "Please don't say that around Batgirl."

"Oh? There a story behind that?"

Dick spun around, trying to look studious- and to hide the rising colour in his cheeks. "Leave it," he growled.

"C'mon, you can tell your old pal." He zoomed around in front of the computer. "Dare ya."

"Wally. You are a married man. Aren't you meant to be mature?" He changed track. "What was it you came to say, anyway?"

"Oh, yeah!" Once again, the ultra-distractibility of speedsters was coming in handy. "Well, you know how we have programs to flag any unusual police reports?"

"Yeah…"

"We got one of those, and Supes said we should tell Bats, and he'd probably take it off our hands, and gotta say, don't envy you-"

"Wally-"

"It's a fairly nasty case, really Gotham-y-"

"The point-"

They were both interrupted by a gruff voice coming over the comm. " _Croc spotted. Nightwing, send backup,_ " Batman ordered.

Dick turned his attention back to the screens "Red Hood, Robin, RV with him." He bit his lip, looking at the girls' and Red Robin's markers. Then his gaze slid to Flash. "B, the others are too far, but I can lend you a speedster." He started marking in the quickest route from the cave to Batman on screen.

" _Which one?_ " Batman replied.

"Flash three."

There was the sound of splashing, and something hitting the sewer wall. " _Fine,_ " Batman grunted.

Dick turned to Flash. "Follow the yellow line," he said. Flash nodded and vanished.

He focused on the sounds from the comms, idly noting Batgirl finishing a call to get the cops to pick up Croc from the nearest sewer exit. From underground, he heard splashes, thuds, a few gunshots. Then Batman, tersely ordering, " _Get Robin back to the cave now._ "

He got up and spun around as Flash reappeared, carrying his youngest brother. He pulled them into the Med Bay, quickly taking stock. Robin was breathing shakily, water trickling from his mouth. He was pale and unmoving. "Run upstairs and call Alfred," Dick commanded, turning his brother onto his stomach and hitting between his shoulder blades to get the dirty sewer water out of his lungs. Robin coughed and started vomiting.

Alfred appeared and took over, pulling off Damian's costume and assessing the injury. "The x-ray, Master Dick," he instructed. Dick nodded, hurrying over to the machine. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Flash standing at a loss, until Alfred told him to help.

The report would wait. Damian couldn't.


	18. Injuries and Jokes

**Family Ties Chapter 18 Injuries and Jokes**

Bruce gently rested his hand on his youngest son's head, the peacefully sleeping boy looking his age for once. Next to him, Dr Leslie Thompkins carefully inserted an IV into Damian's arm and placed an oxygen mask over his mouth. By a lucky coincidence, she'd arrived to check up on Dick just in time to confirm Alfred's diagnosis of bruised ribs and prescribe a stomach pump to remove the sewer water, a drip to replace the nutrients lost with his dinner, and a few hours on high oxygen to ensure there were no lasting effects from temporarily flooded lungs. Then she turned back to her intended patient.

Dick was hovering nervously next to the bed. At times like this, Bruce had to wonder what happened to the bright, reckless acrobat to transform him into the concerned young man before him now. Of course, the answer was obvious. As he himself would always feel guilty for failing to get to Jason before Joker got him, so Dick had never forgiven himself for being off world with the Titans at the time. As a result, he'd become rather protective of the others, first Tim, and Stephanie, and Cassandra, and later taking on an exceedingly challenging Damian, and doing his utmost to bring Jason back. Without him, the family wouldn't have survived the…after-effects of the Anti-Life crisis. Though they were very different people, Bruce could appreciate that he wouldn't be where he was now without Dick.

Leslie grabbed the acrobat by the arm and pushed him over to another bed. "Sit," she said, picking up a fresh needle and syringe.

"I'm fine, Doc," Dick whined as he sat down.

"Mm-hm," Leslie said, sticking the needle in his arm. "Have you experienced any dizziness, nausea, double vision, flashing lights or hallucinations?"

"No, no, no, no and no."

"Have you been feeling disorientated or inebriated?"

"Does it count that Wally dragged me down to Roy's and got me blind drunk last night?"

Bruce raised one eyebrow a minute fraction at Dick's sudden, extreme economy with the truth. Over by the T-Rex, West made a strangled, choking noise. Alfred sighed audibly, and Leslie frowned disapprovingly.

"Joking," Dick muttered, rolling his eyes. "No, I haven't."

Leslie glared for a moment before continuing. "If the tox test comes back clean, then you're fine for normal activity."

"Excellent." Dick jumped, flipped, and kissed Leslie on the cheek from behind her. "Thanks, Doc."

"I said 'if'," Leslie reprimanded primly.

"Do what you're told, Dick," Bruce told him. Dick pouted and sat back down.

As Leslie started testing the blood sample, a motorbike roared into the cave and a somewhat irritated Jason dismounted, pulling off his helmet and griping about "stupid cops".

"Three dollars in the jar," Bruce told him. "And a warm shower before you catch cold."

Jason glared at him and stomped off to the showers. Maybe leaving him to escort Croc to Arkham hadn't been the best decision, considering his previous…differences of opinion with the authorities. But with Damian injured…

Looked like he'd gotten away with it this time. The computer would have flagged any radio traffic about the police having a disagreement with Red Hood. There would have been quite a lot too; any attempt to arrest Hood would have resulted in Jason beating them to a pulp. Bruce may not always approve of Jason's choice of target, but would never doubt his son's skill.

"Daddy Bats over-protective much?" West whispered in Dick's ear. Futilely whispering; he was all of two meters away.

"He's got good reason," Dick replied, nodding to the sheet-covered display case. Jason couldn't bear to see his old, blood-stained costume; the others valued the warning. This was the compromise.

"Oh. Yeah. I guess."

"Why are you here, West?" Bruce growled to his sometimes teammate.

"We got a report, up at the Watchtower. Murder case in Las Vegas."

"This is the League's business because…?"

"Joker."

Dick hissed angrily. "You sure?"

"That's what it looks like."

Bruce rose and crossed to the Bat-computer. Dick trailed behind him, leaning on the back of the chair and reaching forward to save and close his projects. West handed over a computer chip, and Bruce opened the file.

It wasn't much to go on. The cleric at a drive-through wedding chapel had been found dead, his face fixed in the characteristic rictus grin. The tox test revealed one of the more lethal varieties of the poison.

"Copy-cat killings tend to be weaker strains," Dick murmured. He was correct. Joker was the only one who could make the toxins; no-one else knew how he did it. While the lesser poisons occasionally slipped out of the clown's grasp, the stronger, more complex ones were never out of his control.

Bruce activated the comm link. "Red Robin, return to base," he instructed. Tim was an excellent detective; his input could be very useful. Of course their hands were tied somewhat by the distance, but they could at least evaluate the threat level.

A quiet blip told him Tim had reached his bike. They had a couple of garages around the city, and would stash their vehicles before taking to the rooftops. Once on wheels, Tim should be home in only a few minutes.

While he waited, he meticulously checked each detail, comparing it to past cases. Motive was a mystery. This was Joker; motive was _always_ a mystery.

Another motorbike roared; Tim was back. The youngest of his adopted sons dismounted, pulling off the 'cycle helmet as Leslie came to see the new arrival. "How are you injured?" she sighed.

Tim's eyebrows quirked together. "No, I'm okay. I thought Damian…?"

"Will be fine, come morning. As will Dick." Alfred appeared to escort her out, and she called out once more before leaving. "Be careful boys. I don't want to make another house call any time soon."

Bruce beckoned Tim over. Jason came out of the showers, dressed in frayed jeans and a cotton T-shirt advertising some heavy metal band. Both boys joined Bruce and Dick at the computer as he explained the case.

"Security cameras melted by acid, hmm," Tim muttered. "Weapon fits, target maybe not so much? He doesn't usually care who knows he's there…"

"Still fits his normal," Jason continued.

"Sorry, B, I think we need more," Tim concluded.

Bruce stared at the screen, thinking. "Cass better have refuelled the jet," he muttered. "You will all stay here. Riddler and Cluemaster, you can deal with. Cain, leave alone. And call me."

"Sure, Bruce," Dick nodded placatingly.

"I mean it," Bruce growled. "I don't want you hurt. Any of you."


	19. Don't Get Hurt, He Said

**Family Ties Chapter 19 Don't Get Hurt, He Said**

Jason, Cass, Tim, Stephanie and Damian sat together in the canteen, eating lunch. Cass glanced around at the wide berth the other students gave them. "Why so…alone?" she vocalized, gesturing.

Jason and Stephanie looked up. Damian ignored her, continuing to make notes on his English text in Arabic. Tim glanced around before explaining. "It's to do with social standing." Cass and Jason looked perplexed, so Tim elaborated. "As Waynes, we're pretty much top. They're just below us. But the adoptions are confusing it. To them, you two are freeloading street kids. So they don't know how to treat you."

"But they do get how to act around you?" Jason asked.

"I was one of them anyway. Before…you know. A rather small step up in my standing. And Damian's not really thought to have had any change in standing."

"I get accused of flirting with money a lot," Stephanie added.

"By who?" Tim asked flintily. "I'll make it quite clear to them how little your background matters to me."

"It's fine," she said, glancing down. "And, um…"

"Cluemaster working with Riddler," Cass supplied quietly. "Heard last night."

"Do Father and Grayson know?" Damian asked, looking up at last and leaning in.

"I think Bruce left too early, but Babs was going to tell Dick," Stephanie told him somewhat morosely.

"Don't worry, Steph," Tim said. "I really don't-"

" _Timothy Drake-Wayne, report to Science Nine at once,_ " the intercom chimed, silencing dozens of conversations and throwing the Waynes back into the centre of attention.

Tim frowned. "Chemistry there in twenty minutes anyway," he muttered to himself, before shrugging and rising.

Cass rested her hand on his wrist before he picked up his plate. "We do that," she offered. "You get going."

"Thanks. Jay, can you grab my bag from my locker?" Jason grumbled an assent, and Tim tossed him the keyring. "Cheers. See you later."

* * *

Mrs Milliner had been teaching Chemistry at Gotham Academy for the best part of a decade. In all that time, she'd never seen anything like the brawl Todd-Wayne and Drake-Wayne had on their first day. More disturbing, it seemed the quarrel was over the necessity of a wider chemical knowledge than explosives. When they'd returned from suspension, they'd seemed very polite to each other. Mrs Milliner had a habit of watching trouble children.

Todd-Wayne, along with several other AP students, were waiting for her to arrive and unlock the door to the lab after lunch. He was leaning against the wall, looking slightly perturbed. Drake-Wayne was nowhere in sight.

She opened the lab door, and gasped ( _not_ shrieked) in shock. The room was a mess. Stools had been over turned. A burette had been smashed, and from the blood, someone had been badly cut. Small piles of glass from smashed bottles stood in puddles of colourless liquid, the locked cupboards they were stored in smashed open. One of the workbenches sported deep gouges. And at the back, a large knife pinned a piece of paper to the wall.

Stepping through the wreckage, Mrs Milliner reached out to remove the knife, before finding her wrist caught in a tight grip. "You'll smudge the fingerprints," said a terse voice. Indeed, there were some bloody fingerprints on the hilt. Mrs Milliner felt her hand released, and looked over at Todd-Wayne, who was now reaching past her, not for the knife, but for a fine chain with a collection of trinkets caught on the knife. He gently freed it, and examined a pair of gold rings. "Damn," he muttered. "Had hoped I was wrong…"

"Do you know what happened?" she asked him.

Todd-Wayne's teal-blue eyes seemed very hard in their sockets. "It seems Tim was ambushed, and came off the worst of it," he said. Mrs Milliner tried to protest that he couldn't know that, but he cut her off. "It's happened before. Believe me. And I know his necklace when I see it."

She looked past him to the rest of the class crowding the door. "Back outside, all of you," she snapped. "Except Todd-Wayne."

They obeyed. Todd-Wayne now had his cell phone to his ear and had turned away. Three times in quick succession he growled, "Science Nine, now," into the handset before immediately dialling again. The fourth time, he said, "Gold bird. Get here now. Science Nine. There's a situation."

"You know I have to alert the Principal," she told him. "And most likely the police as well."

"Yeah, I know," he replied. "And our guardian. I just did that one."

She looked around at a scuffle by the door. The youngest Wayne boy pushed in past the class outside. "Todd, what-?" Where's Drake?"

Todd-Wayne held out the chain in answer. Wayne fell silent, his eyes flicking over the destroyed room. Another commotion heralded the arrival of the Asian Cain-Wayne and a blonde freshman- Black? Brown?- who'd been pictured hanging off Drake-Wayne's arm at the Labour Day Gala the previous week. They also focused on the slim necklace before looking about.

Mrs Milliner was about to order the new arrivals out, before realising that, if Todd-Wayne was right, getting rid of Drake-Wayne's family and girlfriend wouldn't be the wisest course.

"You called…?" Cain-Wayne asked falteringly.

"Yeah," Todd-Wayne replied. "He should be here soon."

Cain-Wayne nodded, going over to read the note on the wall. She paled, making a few gestures. Ignoring the strange method of communication, Mrs Milliner picked up the classroom phone, calling Principal Forsythe and alerting him to the situation.

He arrived a few minutes later. "Young man," he said sternly to Todd-Wayne. "If you or your brother did this, you're out, no matter how much Wayne offers to pay."

"Sir, it's more complicated," Cain-Wayne interrupted. "See-"

She broke off as the roar of a motorbike filtered through the open window. Scarcely a minute later, the secretary looked through the door. "I'm sorry," she apologised. "But Mr Grayson insisted-"

Not waiting, the eldest Wayne son slipped into the trashed lab, motorbike helmet under his arm. "What happened?" he asked.

Todd-Wayne handed him the necklace. "Note on the wall," he said curtly.

Mrs Milliner took advantage of the girls moving to see the note herself.

_Wayne,_

_You have what is mine. I have what is yours. Let's trade, before what is yours gets too broken._

Beneath was a scribbled drawing of a polar bear's head in a black circle.

Todd-Wayne was speaking again. "Cain kidnapped Tim."


	20. Don't Panic

**Family Ties Chapter 20 Don't Panic**

Dick sat cross-legged on the teacher's desk, watching Bullock and Montoya monitor the gathering of evidence. Nearby, Steph was fighting off tears, Jason and Damian were lost in their own thoughts, and Cass was most definitely brooding. Not that he could blame her.

"Mr Grayson?"

"Yes, Detective Bullock?"

"Would it be possible to speak to Mr Wayne now?"

Dick smiled ruefully. "I'm afraid not. Bruce is out of town on business, and doesn't seem to be answering his phone."

Bullock frowned. "We need to interview your brother Jason, and as he's still a minor-"

"Oh, that's not a problem. I'm legally permitted to act as guardian in Bruce's stead." Dick flashed a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Do you have any objections to doing it now, we can save going down to the station?" They both shook their heads. Bullock pulled out a recording device. The forensic guys left, and Bullock turned to the other three youngsters. "Could you three step outside for a minute?"

They all glanced at Dick; who nodded slightly. Then they left.

Bullock switched on the recording device, listing off date, time and who was in the room. "Jason, tell us what you saw," he started off.

"I arrived at the classroom about a minute and a half after first bell. This was straight after lunch. The door was locked."

"Is it unusual for the door to be locked?"

"Not in itself; school policy is that all labs are locked except when a teacher is present. But Tim had been called to the room about twenty minutes earlier. As I hadn't seen him since, I'd thought he'd still be there."

"Could he not have finished before the end of lunch?"

"Yeah, but he'd asked me to pick up his bag from his locker for him. It would have made more sense for him to wait for me in the corridor."

"Was this worrying you?"

"Not seriously. It was odd, but I didn't think it was cause for concern. When Mrs Milliner arrived and unlocked the door, the room was wrecked."

"Did anything in particular attract your attention?"

"Aside from the literal bull-in-a-china-shop look?" Dick shot him a quick look telling him to behave. "A bloody knife pinning a note to the back wall. It had Tim's necklace suspended from it."

"This the necklace?" Bullock held up the evidence bag Dick had let them put the chain in earlier.

"Yeah. The rings are his parent's wedding rings; I checked the inscriptions."

"What are the other two?"

"The black and silver is a representation of the eclipse," Dick explained. "Old family legend. The red and purple half-yin-yang is from his girlfriend. She's got the other half."

"Back to the knife. Anything more about it than the necklace and note?"

"As well as blood on the blade, it has fingerprints," Jason said. "I suspect both are from Tim."

"Can we confirm that?" Bullock glanced over at Montoya, who shrugged, and scribbled an extra note in her book.

"I fingerprinted us all after it came up in my course," Dick supplied. "And I'm fairly sure our family doctor has blood samples. I can have them sent over this evening."

"You do that." Bullock then read out the note to the recording system. "Do you know what this means?"

"Yes. It's a private matter not up for discussion," Jason answered curtly.

"We'd be willing to talk to the Commissioner about it," Dick offered. "No-one else."

Bullock continued to pepper them with questions for a few minutes, getting only "no comment" in response, before terminating the interview. "Fine. I'll call the Commissioner," he said grumpily.

"Thank you." Bullock went off the make the call and talk to Montoya, while Dick called Damian, Cass and Steph back in. He briefly explained the situation. Steph looked confused about something.

" _Why take Tim?_ " she asked in Romani, their most unusual and thus preferred common language.

" _I think he wanted whoever he could grab quickest and with least complications,_ " Dick suggested, staying in the same language. " _I'm too good at evasion for him to avoid attracting attention; Jason and Damian too vicious when cornered,_ _ **and**_ _have al Ghul connections he wouldn't want to offend; he wants Cass to come to him; Babs would have the entire police force mobilized; and he probably doesn't want the aggravation of irritating Riddler's new partner._ "

" _I don't think my al Ghul connections are all that great,_ " Jason grumbled.

" _Mother declared me an enemy, remember?_ " Damian pointed out.

Dick frowned and thought for a moment, then threw his motorbike helmet at Jason. " _When Gordon arrives, you two go home. Get those samples ready, try to contact Bruce, and call Babs back. Start whatever research she says. There's a spare helmet in the rear compartment._ " He tossed over the keys. " _Don't trash it._ " He turned to Steph. " _Do you want to ask your mom if you can stay over until this is sorted?_ "

Steph stepped away to make the call. When she arrived back ten minutes later with permission, Gordon was arriving. He chivvied Bullock and Montoya out, and the boys took off.

"What is it you won't tell the detectives?" he asked Dick. Dick gestured to the note.

"Do you recognize the symbol?" he asked.

"It's the mark of Cain, isn't it? _Your_ father." He nodded to Cass, who nodded back an affirmative. "He wants you back, and you want to keep it quiet, huh?"

"Something like that," Dick said. "You helped get the adoption through, so…"

"You know it was Barbara's idea? The legal bit to get her into the system, getting your Bruce Wayne to adopt her…she said Bruce did well enough with you boys, and could afford another. You were all happy with it, the disarray from the quake left few options, it made sense."

"I know, sir," Dick said, catching Cass' hand, "Right now, the world thinks she's a street kid, and that's _safe_. I know you'll do your best to find Tim, so can you help with this too?"

"I'll try, son. I really will."


	21. Making Preparations

**Family Ties Chapter 21 Making Preparations**

Dick paced restlessly through the cave, phone pressed to his ear. He cursed. "Bruce _still_ not answering," he growled. "Any luck on his comm?"

"Not yet," Babs called back from her seat at the Bat-computer, tracking down satellites and security cameras that had been pointing in the right direction.

Dick sighed, running fingers through his hair, then pulled up a less-used number. It picked up on the third ring. _"Hello?"_

"Cassie? It's Dick Grayson."

" _Nightwing? What's up? If you're looking for Tim, I haven't heard from him since he texted to say he was okay after the Arkham breakout last week. Or were you after Donna?"_

Dick winced slightly at the current Wonder Girl's choice of phrasing. "That's…not it, no. Actually, I wanted to ask a favour."

" _Uh, okay. What do you need?"_

"You're the unofficial deputy leader of the Titans, right?"

" _Kinda. Me and Tim sort of share."_

"Fine. Can you call a meeting of the Titan tonight, today, whatever the time is where you are, and find some way to leak to the media that Red Robin was injured, sometime since two o'clock this morning eastern time, and is recuperating at the Tower for an indeterminate period of time?"

A momentary pause. _"Can you give me that a bit slower?"_

Dick repeated himself, hearing Cassie write it all down. "You got that?"

" _Yeah, but why do you want this?"_

Dick hesitated, hating to bear bad news. "Tim's been kidnapped."

" _He has? Is he okay? Is that why he's injured?"_

"It's not that simple. Tim Drake-Wayne's been kidnapped, not Red Robin. We don't have him back yet. That's why I want Red Robin to supposedly be somewhere else."

" _Is there anything we can do?"_ she asked in a small voice.

"Just the cover story," Dick answered. "I was planning on telling Conner and Bart, but would you prefer to tell them yourself?"

" _Yeah, that would be best."_ A slight sniff betrayed her distress. _"Thanks for telling me."_

"If it was me, I'd want my old team to know."

" _I guess. Will you keep us informed?"_

"I'll try. Bye, Cassie."

" _Bye. Good luck."_

The phone went dead, and Dick punched in a new number. "Clark, sorry to interrupt you at work," he started.

" _Not at all. What's the problem?"_

"Bruce has gone incommunicado, following that case you gave us. If he contacts the Watchtower, can you please tell him to call home straight away? Because Tim's been kidnapped."

" _Ah-"_ Clark stuttered for a bit. _"Okay, if he calls in, I'll tell him. Do you want me to drop by this evening?"_

"Thanks, but you know Bruce's feelings about metas. And...this one's pretty complicated. I'll let you know if there's anything else."

As Dick terminated the call, Alfred approached. "Master Dick, is your intrigue with Miss Sandmark really necessary?"

"It's more of a safety net. Tim proved years ago there's enough circumstantial evidence to confirm anyone's suspicions. Why make it easy?"

"I see, Master Dick. Do you also have a plan to cover Master Bruce's absence?"

"Yup. Jason!"

Jason looked over from a large Perspex map of Gotham, where he, Steph and Damian were trying to find a pattern between Cain's past hideouts. "What?"

"Can you go out as Nightwing tonight?"

"Why?"

"Less suspicious if Red Hood's not around."

"What are you going out in?"

Jason followed as Dick swerved into one of the specialized suit stores, pushing past a rack of newer creations following the most recent designs for Red Hood, Batgirl and Spoiler, and pulled out…a bulked up Batsuit.

"What the hell's that?" Jason asked, staring.

"Modified suit." Dick scooped up extra-thick soled boots, padded belt, gloves, cape and cowl and headed back to the main cave.

"What's with the padding? Insecure in your physique?"

Dick gave him a dirty look, and stopped at the cabinet for current, everyday suits. "Look." He held up the suit. "Bruce is taller and chunkier. This makes up the difference somewhat."

"How long you had that?" Jason asked, comparing the suits.

"Couple of years. We only use it when I need to impersonate Bruce."

"Do we have a suit for everything?"

"No, we don't have one for you to impersonate me, so go put this on and we'll see what needs tweaking." He shoved a Nightwing suit at Jason and pushed him towards the changing room. "Steph, give Selina a call. If she's agreeable, I want you two to spend the night going through her contacts. But wait for my call before setting off. Damian, you'll be with me. Gordon'll most likely light the signal at sundown. Then we'll go to the crime scene." The two younger Bats, listening from by the computer, nodded.

"What about me, Gold Bird?" Jason asked, re-emerging in the suit.

"The League of Shadows sometimes use cargo containers as temporary bases. I want you and Babs to start checking them out. Tomorrow, check Red Hood's contacts." Dick surveyed his brother and sighed. "Probably have to remove most of the armour," he muttered.

"Allow me, Master Dick, Master Jason," Alfred offered.

"Thanks, Alf. Jason, black the white streak, please?"

As Jason grumbled, removing the suit's top and looking for short-term dye, Damian sidled up to Dick. "Still concerned about Vale?"

"I just don't want to give away our numbers and whereabouts, Dami," Dick replied, massaging his brow to try to fight off an imminent headache. "Still only four o'clock." He stretched. "We need to prepare a statement for the press. Want to help?"

"If you wish, Grayson."

"Thanks, Babybird. Where's the number for Wayne Enterprise's PR department?"


	22. To the Ends of the Earth

**Family Ties Chapter 22 To the Ends of the Earth**

"I just wanna be respected!" Harley screamed. "That too much to ask?"

' _Not really,'_ Batman thought, but the hyena on his chest wasn't leaving respect much room.

"I mean, if Mistah J respected me, he'd marry me, wouldn't he?" the crazy clown girl continued. "'Least, that's what the blonde wi' the sword said." She paused, and Batman tried to work out who she was talking about while inching his fingers towards the micro-explosives in his belt and watching Quinn's swinging six-shot. "But they kept saying we weren't 'of sound mind'. I mean, really, not like we jus' broke outta the loony bin." She laughed wildly.

Batman tossed a tiny pellet into the animal's side. It howled, rearing off, and he kicked it back, rolling to his feet as a bullet whizzed past his ear. He lunged for the ex-psychiatrist, only to be hindered by the hyena closing its jaws on his upper arm. He grunted.

"Mistah J says we'll go somewhere else. Mebbe Star City." She gave a lazy wave, "See ya, Bats," and hared out of the abandoned casino.

Batman grappled with the hyena briefly, eventually snapping its neck. He felt momentarily guilty – very momentarily; those things were trained to attack mercilessly, and he _hated_ things hurting his family.

He got outside just in time to see the Clown Prince and his girlfriend drive off in a stolen convertible. He pursued, in the hopes of finding some indication of their next destination, but not expecting it; they were too mercurial. Sure enough, his four-day long pursuit ended in frustration at another vanishing.

As he returned to the hangar he'd stored his jet in, his thoughts turned to home. Maybe Tim and Barbara could find a trail; if nothing else, the Arrows could keep a lookout. Right now, though, Alfred would be preparing dinner, the children returning from school. He felt his lips curl up. It was curious how he'd gone from being the terror of the night to an adoring father. Ah well. Perhaps his boys (and girl) had caught up with Riddler, or Cluemaster, or sorted out something else for him. He'd turned his comm off in case Joker was tracing it, which he'd done before. He probably had time to file his report in the Watchtower before going back to Gotham. He had that portable teleport in the jet as well as the one in the cave, so he could fly it back later. Or send Tim; Tim liked flying the jet.

It was the work of a moment to assemble the teleport and travel to the Watchtower. Batman passed into the monitor room and crossed to a spare computer, nodding to the Leaguer on duty. "Jordan."

Green Lantern Hal Jordan wheeled in his chair. "Bats? What are you- you haven't been back to Gotham yet, have you?"

"The report first." The Dark Knight sat down and prepared to ignore the space cop.

A glowing green beam of will-power spun him back round. "Forget the report; go home! Your boy's been kidnapped!"

"What?" Batman froze, thinking briefly of each of his sons; Dick's infectious grins, Jason's devilish street-fighting, Tim's bright intelligence, Damian's relentless spirit. Which one wasn't waiting for him? "Who?" he asked quietly.

"We've all been calling you, but no, you had to have your comm off…"

" _Dammit_ , Jordan, which of _my sons_ -"

"Red Robin! Tim!" Jordan held his hands up placatingly. "I'm sorry, Bats. Really. Just…good luck. And don't worry about your jet; I'll fly it back for you. Go home."

He grunted an acceptance and rose, hurriedly keyed in the destination, and left the satellite.

When he arrived in the cave, he heard quiet sobs echoing through the cavern. Stepping into the main cave, he found Spoiler sat in front to a vertical Perspex map, various pictures stuck to the edges. She sniffled.

"Stephanie," Batman said gently, flipping down his cowl.

She turned around, wiping tears from her eyes. "Bruce? You're back!"

He crossed over and rested a hand on her shoulder. "I came as soon as I heard. We'll get him back, I promise."

"I know, it's just-" She looked over at the pictures. Batman followed her gaze. One depicted a ransom note from Cain (his stomach clenched at the demand) and the others close-ups of various injuries- a deep knife wound, successively broken fingers, a blue, bloodshot eye surrounded by bruising. "These have been coming every day," Stephanie whispered.

"Where are the others?" Bruce asked.

"Babs hasn't got here yet, Hood's out threatening his contacts," she made a distasteful face and continued. "Damian's doing some paperwork, I think, and Dick and Cass are in the gym."

"Shall we call them?" Bruce suggested. "I want to know everything."

Stephanie nodded, and threw a batarang at the all-comm alert switch on the computer. Seemed Damian's fondness for projectiles was infectious. "Jason was first on the scene, but Dick's been pretending to be you, so he and Damian examined it."

"Wait." Bruce held up a hand. "Where was Tim taken from?"

She bit her lip. "School. Cain hacked the intercom and called him to the Chemistry room during lunch. We didn't suspect anything…" She sniffed again. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Bruce reassured her. "You've nothing to be sorry for."

"Steph, wha- Bruce!" Dick tore down the stairs and hugged his second father. Looking past him, Bruce saw Cass and Damian also coming towards him, though less demonstrative.

"I promise, I won't stay off-grid for so long again," Bruce told them. "Exactly what happened?"

Jason arrived back halfway through the explanation, surly and bloody-knuckled. "If anyone knows anything, they're not talking," he reported.

"We've no solid leads," Dick finished. "Anything else petered out."

"Hmm." Bruce thought for a moment. "Cassandra, if you were to give yourself up, what would you do?"

"You're not serious!" Dick exclaimed.

Cass held up a hand to silence him. "File for emancipation. Tip off press. Pack gear, no markings. Wait here." She pointed to a spot on the map, where Cain had tried to assassinate Gordon after the earthquake. "He'd send me away, _then_ release Tim."

"Check the area for surveillance devices," Bruce ordered. "Don't expect anything."

"You were wondering if we could bluff it?" Jason shrugged. "How do we know he won't kill Tim anyway?"

"Three reasons," Cass said. "He respects us too much, to maim or kill. Two, he wants me; I'd never forgive him. Third, if he did, Batman would hunt him to the ends of the Earth."


	23. Too Close to Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features multilingual dialogue - more than usual. The italics are for speech on screen. Just italics is English. Italics and bold, Arabic. Italics, bold and underline, Romani.

**Family Ties Chapter 23 Too Close to Home**

' _Even Bruce can't pull leads from thin air,'_ Cass thought, slipping into whole-school assembly on Monday morning, feeling curious stares on her, Tim's continued absence still a hot topic. Everything they'd tried had come up cold; the search was going nowhere.

It was only a matter of time before she gave in, and surrendered to her father.

Before the Principal could start his address, the projector screen went dark, and a new picture formed. Cass' heart froze at the sight of Tim, wearing the same torn and bloody clothes he wore last week, chained to a chair, and David Cain, her father, looming over him.

" _Good morning, children,_ " Cain started. " _Hate_ _to interrupt your little gathering, but I've some important business. As you can see, I have Timothy Drake-Wayne. I'm willing to trade."_

Tim looked up. Fixing the camera with a hard, pain filled gaze, one eye blackened from a hard punch some days before. _**"Fool,"**_ he said in Arabic. _**"You know we'll never take your deal."**_

Cain drew a long knife with a serrated blade from his belt and flipped it in his hands. _"A simple one-for-one trade. Not too much, is it?"_

Tim snorted. _**"Liar. One-for-one? How many would you have her kill? How many lives ended? How much blood staining her hands-"**_

The knife flicked out, and Cain pressed it to the teen's face, from the edge of his mouth to the corner of his eyes. Droplets of blood beaded where the sharp metal pierced his skin. _"I'm getting impatient,"_ Cain said. _"You know what I'm after."_

" _ **You know I'll never thank you for giving yourself up for me, sister dear,"**_ Tim responded, wincing as the knife was dragged through the first few millimetres of flesh. _**"I'm not worth that much."**_

The assembled children were rippling with unease, most of them horrified at the casually inflicted wounds. The teachers seemed transfixed; it was like they were watching a car crash, although the physics teacher was gesturing for the (oblivious) sound desk boys to shut off the projector. It didn't help, exactly, that they were only getting half the conversation. Tim had very deliberately picked the one language they – and Cain – would have no trouble understanding, but would most likely leave everyone else clueless. As it was, the rich kids surrounding them were left wondering what Tim could possibly be saying to provoke such brutal (to them) treatment.

" _Interesting question, that,"_ Cain murmured. _"What is a life worth?"_ Still standing behind Tim, Cain removed the knife down and when it caught on his shirt, cutting through it, moving towards his captive's heart.

" _ **Whose life?"**_ Tim was breathing heavily now, more than a little wary of the blade on his chest, now tracing circles around the blood-pumping organ. _**"Thomas and Martha Wayne. Seven hundred, fifty thousand dollars. John and Mary Grayson, five thousand. Catherine Todd, sixty dollars. Janet Drake, three million. Jack Drake, fifty thousand."**_

" _Strange figures,"_ Cain mused. _"I wonder how you got them."_

" _ **Oh please."**_ Tim rolled his eyes, straining to control hid body's reactions to the danger. _**"Not that hard to work out the value of what cost them their lives."**_

Cass glanced at Jason; as she expected, he showed just a touch of irritation that his step-mother was valued so low. It made perfect sense, though – the Waynes died over a string of pearls, the Graysons for a protection fee, Janet Drake over a botched smuggling job and Jack assassinated, while Catherine Todd died of a heroin overdose. Tim's high estimates of his own parents' worth was nothing more than an estimate of the seized artefacts' value, and the assassin's payment.

Cain removed the knife from his prisoner's chest, and Tim relaxed his shoulders a fraction. _"And how much do you think your life is worth, I wonder."_

" _ **You appear to be valuing it at what you'd make from my sister's contracts. I'm flattered."**_ A muscle twitched in Cain's forehead, and Tim continued. _**"If you kill me, you'll never have her, and you know it."**_

" _Oh, maybe,"_ Cain said casually. _"But I don't need you intact."_

He moved from behind the chair to beside it, reached out, and grabbed Tim's right wrist. His hands were cuffed to each other as well as the arms of the chair, so the camera got a good view of the four snapped fingers on his left hand, and three on the right. Cain seized the remaining upright finger, the index, and broke it.

As the sickening crunch filled the room, several people shrieked. The scent of various unpleasant bodily fluids filtered through the room. Cass restrained herself from leaping forward to try to aid her stricken sibling. Instead, she watched as Tim closed his eyes, pain flicking over his visage, before he mastered it. _**"That…is quite irritating."**_

" _If this is boring you, I could always find you a playmate,"_ Cain threw out casually. _"Not hard to put the clues together, and a father's alliance is no real protection."_

Cass hissed angrily, glancing at Steph, meeting her startled brown-eyes gaze. Looking at her other two brothers, Cass saw them both looking back towards the screen from the blonde girl.

Tim had gone chalk-white. His lips drawn back in a snarl. _"Go rot in hell, you bastard,"_ he growled, falling back into English and spitting in Cain's face. He continued into a three minute diatribe that would, under different circumstances, have earned him a five-dollar fee for the swear jar.

The assembled schoolchildren, not quite picking up on the earlier threat, looked somewhat surprised and bemused at the outburst, until it switched languages again.

Cain tutted. _"_ _Spoiled_ _your play, haven't you?"_

In an instant, Tim's countenance changed; the snarl replaced by a smirk, his never-truly-lost temper regained. _"You think?"_ he said, before switching to Romani. _**" Our shipping warehouse, next to and due east of the third largest of the family we would have vengeance on; lair disguised by-"**_

Before he could finish, Cain smashed his head on the back of the chair, knocking him out. The video went black.


	24. One Step at a Time

**Family Ties Chapter 24 One Step at a Time**

The Bats had a rather complex hierarchy, based on age, experience, reliability, skill and various other factors. It was upheld by mutual trust that whoever was giving the command had a good reason, knew what they were doing, and weren't just 'pulling rank'. This system meant that in Tim's absence, it was Cass, not Jason, who was the highest-ranking Bat at Gotham Academy, and thus had the privilege of dealing with the fallout of Cain's video message.

She completely ignored the myriad classmates trying to pry answers from her, and stepped back to the edge of the hall. She locked eyes with her brothers and her best friend, gesturing for them to join her. A few hard looks at the surrounding children convinced them to back off, leaving a fairly clear area for them to talk in.

"What do we do now?" Steph babbled. "I mean, we know what _not_ to do, but how long until Tim's irreparably injured?"

Cass held up a hand. "Calm," she instructed. "Tim smart. We know where to look, I assume. Damian?"

The eleven-year-old frowned. "I'm not certain. Drake gave us a fairly specific description, but I'm not completely familiar with all the warehouses. We'll need to check. It will not be difficult."

"Let's go!" Steph pleaded. "Now!"

"No," Cass said firmly. "Too soon. We'd have no chance, and other things first. Now, damage limitation."

"'Damage limitation'?" Jason exclaimed. "It'll be all over Facebook and Twitter by now. And if someone thought to tape it-

"They can only relate half the discussion," Damian rationalized. "And it is exceedingly unlikely any had the presence of mind to pull out a camera. It was too much of a surprise."

"So…we're the only ones who actually know what happened?" Steph asked. "But if it went through the projector, wouldn't there be a record?"

"Likely," Cass said, frowning. She thought for a moment, quickly planning their next move. "Steph, stay with one of us at all times," she ordered. "Probably bluffing. But, not sure. Jay, call Bruce. Damian, Dick. Steph, Babs. Bruce decide if they come. I get recording."

She darted off to the other side of the room. The Assembly Hall sound desk was manned by a rotating team of Seniors and Juniors, the older boys training the younger before leaving. This week, the Junior was Eric Edwardson, who sat next to Cass in French.

"Boys," she said to attract their attention. "Was that recorded?"

They swivelled around to look at her. "Um, yeah," Eric answered. "When the feed was interrupted, we set it to record and save."

"I need the recording."

Eric looked at his friend, a geeky-looking Senior Cass didn't know. "Well, given the circumstances, I suppose we could do that…" the Senior said doubtfully.

"Two copies." Cass pulled two USB memory sticks from her pocket (Tim had always advised having a spare) and set them on the desk. "And any others deleted permanently."

Eric snatched up the sticks and started the transfer. The Senior folded his arms. "I don't think we can do the deletion. The police will want to see it-"

"They get the second copy-"

"And I'm sure there'll be other interested parties."

Cass stared at him. "Whatever the press offer, we match," she promised. "To keep it confidential."

Still the Senior hesitated. "If Mr Forsythe asks…"

"Need he know you even recorded it?"

Eventually he nodded. "Okay. But one question, and I'll tell him there was no recording. Why not just pay the ransom?"

She shook her head slightly. "It's too much," she whispered.

"You're Waynes! How can anything be 'too much'?"

Cass closed her eyes, constantly reminding herself of Tim's explicit instructions not to surrender. "He's not after money."

"But-"

Her eyes snapped open. "Not happening. Not simple trade. He lied."

"That's what you brother said?" Eric asked softly. "When he wasn't speaking English."

Cass shrugged. "Tim smart. He know how to warn us."

"I hope you get him back." He held out the memory sticks.

"We will." She took the sticks, watching the two boys wipe the video record. "Thank you," she said, slipping away through the crowd.

When she returned to the others, they had two phones out and on speaker. "I have two copies of the film," she announced. "One for us, one for police."

" _Good,"_ Bruce said over one phone. _"I'm coming to collect you. Barbara, can you get into the school computers and trace Cain's hack?"_

" _Not remotely,"_ said Babs from the other phone (presumably with Dick beside her). _"I have a drive with the necessary link-up program. I just need it inserted into any of the computers."_

"I can do that, if I have the drive," Cass volunteered.

" _Very well. You two meet us there,"_ Bruce instructed. _"Cass can plant the drive. When we get back, Dick and Jason will take one film to Gordon. Barbara, trace the hack. We'll work out the clues Tim gave us, and be ready."_

They all agreed, and ended the calls. By now, the teachers were herding the other pupils away, giving the four young Bats a wide berth. As the hall emptied, Steph drew Cass aside somewhat.

"Cass, I'm a bit…worried. And confused," she started.

"Oh? Why?" Cass asked.

"It's Jason and Damian. What are they- I mean, why- I mean, they're usually so hard on Tim, what are they up to now?"

"Ah." Cass nodded, reading her brothers' postures. "They have issues with him. They sometimes want to hurt him. But he's _theirs_ to hurt, _ours_ to have issues with, no-one else's. Sibling rivalry, stress 'sibling'. You understand?"

"I think so. Adversarial relationship, stress 'relationship'. No matter what problems they have, he's one of us, and they'll protect that."

"More or less." Cass thought for a moment. "Father made a mistake. We have never been so strong. We have never been so determined to protect what is ours. To not lose again."

"We _will_ win this. We _won't_ give up," Steph agreed.

"And hell to pay at the end of it," Cass concluded grimly.


	25. Almost Time

Dick paced the cave restlessly. Bruce and Damian had located the building Tim had mentioned (a Wayne Shipping warehouse next to Swift Transport's third largest) and were looking at the plans for it and the surrounding buildings. Jason was watching the video for the fourth time (now mercifully muted), trying to find extra clues. Babs was using the Batcomputer to follow Cain's hack. Cass had left to deliver the spare video to the police.

Steph, like him, was at a loose end. He flipped, and sidled over to her. "Spar?" he offered.

She nodded, rising and grabbing a bo staff. Dick picked up a pair of escrima sticks, and they moved to the training mat. They sank into 'ready' positions, but were distracted by the roar of a motorcycle, announcing Cass' return.

"How did Dad take it?" Babs called out.

"Not great," Cass answered, dismounting and removing her helmet. "He'd already heard vague reports, but insufficient detail. Told him we passed video to Batman as well."

"Suppose that's one advantage of Batman Inc.," Dick mused. "Cuts out the middle man."

"Cassandra, does your father know what Tim said?" Bruce asked.

She frowned. "I think not. But most likely can guess."

"He will assume we know where he is," Damian said. "That is standard practise in the League of Shadows."

"When would he be most likely to expect a rescue attempt?" asked Bruce.

"At once, or nightfall, I suppose," Cass mused. "Or after a week of stakeout."

"When would he least expect it?"

"Noon tomorrow." Bruce sighed, and Cass raised an eyebrow, as though to say 'you DID ask'. She rolled her eyes. "Or early morning. Four to six."

"Hmm." Bruce examined the diagrams drawn on the Perspex board. "We need to convince him we're waiting, or cause a distraction."

Damian and Cass frowned, Jason fiddled with the clip in his handgun and Babs chewed the arm of her anti-glare computer spectacles. Dick tilted his head, running through all their resources to see what would help. A thought slowly formed.

"I have an idea," he offered. "You may not like it. Do you trust me?"

"Of course," Bruce said, frowning. "You know that."

"Enough to relax some of your usual rules?"

Bruce locked his gaze. "To get Tim back? I trust your judgement."

Dick nodded, and pulled out his phone, dialling the number. "Hello, Cassie?"

* * *

Hours had passed. Little had been achieved. Babs had tracked the hack back to a computer in the college library. When Dick examined it, he found the hard drive ripped out and the mother board snapped. No way to trace anything.

As it started to get dark, Jason went off to mark the area as Red Hood territory, a process that involved threatening anyone who didn't like it and bloodying several knives.

Bruce had a long discussion with Leslie about what she'd be treating Tim for tomorrow. She didn't like it, especially not the 'quite probably something else as well' bit, but was grateful for the advance warning, and the confirmation of the rumours.

Dick had prepared a statement for the press, requesting privacy, voicing confidence in the GCPD and all resources they may have, and promising a further statement at such a time as circumstances changed.

Bruce and Cass were currently out, Batman co-ordinating the upcoming operation with Gordon, and Black Bat taking control of the security cameras in the area with the help of Oracle. Babs may more usually go by Batgirl now, but she still enjoyed returning to her information broker persona, if only for a few hours.

A voice ran through the cave. "Nightwing!" Dick came out of a side room with an armful of spare weaponry, and saw a small group of four brightly dressed teens.

"Wonder Girl," he said, smiling. "Superboy, Kid Flash, Ravager."

Ravager rounded on Wonder Girl. "You said we wouldn't be with them."

"We're trying to make it look like we've decided on a week of stakeout before making a move. I'm assuming that's the story Cassie gave you? Your job is to cause a distraction and look like you ignored us and came on your own for a rescue mission," Dick explained.

"Can you _please_ tell us everything that's happened?" Superboy asked.

By the time Batman and Black Bat returned, they'd nearly finished the report. "So we're working out a rather specific schedule," Dick finished. "Take it from here, B?"

Batman moved over to the map. The Titans and Bats clustered around. "This is the warehouse where Tim is being held," he started. "The exact location is concealed; we don't know how. At three-fifteen, we will start feeding the security cameras a loop. By three-thirty, we will be in position." He ghosted his finger over markers for the Gothamites, before pointing out places for the Titans. "At four, you four advance into these locations, Attract attention, but be stealthy. Look like you're trying your best to be inconspicuous. You must be seen by quarter past. Then, attack these three targets. I leave that part to you. At half past, we will attack down these routes. At five, the police arrive. You must be gone by then. Clear?"

Superboy raised a hand. "Who gets Tim?"

"Rescuing him is our first priority," Dick said. "If you can get him out, do so. But we will be turning him over to police custody, so bear in mind we'll be taking him if you get him."

"Why is it meant to take so long?" Kid Flash whined.

"This kind of strategy gives room for modification," Babs explained. "We don't want to be so tight for time we can't improvise."

Ravager snorted. "Look, I only came 'cause it's Cain. I don't take well to being a distraction. When do we get to kick assassin butt?"

The tips of Batman's lips twitched, his version of a broad grin. "As long as you stick to the plan, Miss Wilson, you may kick all the assassin butt you want."


	26. Plan In Action

**Family Ties Chapter 26 Plan in Action**

It was a dark and stormy night. It had only taken ten minutes for Nightwing to become completely soaked. He looked to his left, seeing Spoiler huddled in her hooded cape, and remembered the cape of his Robin costume, great for keeping rain off. Then he glanced right, saw Wonder Girls shivering in her sleeveless shirt, and remembered cold elbows and rain trickling into his gloves. Maybe his current uniform wasn't so bad. Still, if it were a normal night, he'd try to cut it short. If the stakes were lower.

If the stakes weren't his brother.

A flash of lightening brightened the sky. Nightwing frowned. He couldn't remember anything about thunder or lightening on the weather forecast. "Kid Flash," he muttered into the comm. "Any news on Weather Wizard?"

" _Not that I know of,"_ Kid Flash replied. _"Want me to run and check?"_

" _No,"_ Batman cut across. _"It can wait."_

Nightwing amused himself for a few minutes trying to work out who might be causing the storm and why, before realising it was perfectly possible for it to be natural, and the forecast wrong.

" _So…"_ Red Hood said, breaking the silence. _"When we get in, do we have targets, or just go for who's closest?"_

" _Black Bat and I will take Cain,"_ Batman said. _"The rest is up to who gets openings. Remember to watch each other's backs. Whoever has first bead on Tim, go for him."_

" _Cain probably has some ninja minions from the League,"_ Robin added. _"Retrieving the One who is All has long been a goal."_

" _Great. We can kill some ninjas,"_ Ravager said happily.

" _You may NOT!"_ Batman told her forcefully. He paused. _"You may_ _ **incapacitate**_ _some ninjas."_

" _Uh, just thought of something,"_ Wonder Girl interjected. _"You don't want the Police to know we were here? Won't it be obvious with sword cuts on the assassins?"_

" _I highly doubt she is the only one with a sword,"_ Batman remarked dryly. No-one spoke for a moment.

" _Are you implying something, Father?"_ Robin asked innocently.

Nightwing could practically HEAR the eye roll. _"Just don't kill anyone,"_ Batman told him wearily. _"Superboy, can you see in there?"_

" _No,"_ the half-Kryptonian replied somewhat grouchily. _"Too much lead. Did you coat Gotham, with the stuff or something?"_

" _That warehouse contains material for Wayne Shipyards,"_ Robin explained. _"It is entirely conceivable that includes lead, which was rearranged to form a screen."_

"Tim said the hideout was disguised in some way, so keep looking after you get in," Nightwing suggested.

" _Yeah, I know,"_ Superboy replied moodily. Nightwing sometimes found it hard to remember the younger heroes weren't exactly neophytes. Tim had trained them well.

" _Move out,"_ Batman ordered eventually. Twin streaks swept from shadow to shadow through the rain; Superboy and Wonder Girl going not-quite-fast-enough-to-be-invisible. Kid Flash vanished, reappearing as a slight vibration on the edge of a street lamp's illumination. But Ravager, Deathstroke's daughter, was nothing but a disturbance in the air, visible only because Nightwing was looking for her.

Batman would never devise this sort of plan. He just didn't have the confidence in the younger heroes to think of them as valuable assets he could call upon. Nightwing (and Red Robin) were used to working with and training alongside their peers. They were also somewhat less taken by Batman's slight mental block regarding _needing_ help.

There was a reason Batman had problems acknowledging that they were not alone. It simply wasn't in his nature.

What _was_ in his nature was brooding, skulking, and mauling anyone who dared hurt his family.

That was why he needed the moderating influence of a junior partner. Of all the many things Tim had been right about, few had been more crucial than the fact Batman needed a Robin.

Losing _any_ Robin would be near enough too much. Watching B beat the stuffing out of Cain would be so much more fun once Tim had been rescued.

Batman gave the order, and Superboy and Wonder Girl charged straight at the front, smashing through the loading bay door. A speedster blur streaked around the side, a few bullets peppering the ground while Ravager slid through an upper window.

What went on inside was discernible only through the shouts, shots, and Wonder Girl's orders. A crowd of ninjas were taking shelter in the crate jungle, making it difficult to flush them out. Deadshot was taking pot-shots at Kid Flash. Lady Vic had engaged Ravager.

" _Found him,"_ Superboy grunted. _"Underground chamber. I'll try to clear a way to it."_

Nightwing itched to join in, to get his brother back and punish those who took him. Spoiler seemed to be having the same difficulties. But Batman's training held; they stayed at their posts, as time inched on, and the fight continued. Batgirl called through a few changes in position, when the snipers took new posts. She and Red Hood were ordered to change entry positions to compensate, and the wait continued.

At last, Batman's growl came over the comm. _"Now."_

And they hurtled into chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm cross-posting from FF.net. I haven't quite mastered the AO3 format yet, which is why it's taking time. Those of you who are reading this for the first time, I'd love to know exactly what you think.


	27. Damian the Demon

**Family Ties Chapter 27 Damian the Demon**

Robin had not really expected to slip the sword past Father's notice. For that matter, Todd had several clips of live ammunition he hadn't been called out on. Father tended to be slightly more flexible regarding weaponry when one of the family was in danger.

Not that Drake was his brother. More a…cousin. Twice removed. _Ob_ viously.

Oh, who was he trying to fool? Fine. _Brother_. Annoying, unworthy, adopted brother. But Grayson hated it when he didn't 'play nice', and he respected Grayson.

Like this new plan of Grayson's. It did not seem necessary to include Drake's teammates, but the distraction was better than they'd hoped for. By the time Father had given the order and they'd entered the building, the crates had been scattered everywhere, a number burst open and spilling their contents. At least it was only parts for the shipyard. But the metas' charging around had flushed out most of the Shadows' ninjas. And it had been an age since he'd seen anything quite as funny as Deadshot repeatedly missing the Allen boy.

Robin dropped down behind Lady Vic, who was having an intense sword fight with Ravager. He drew his own sword, the slight whisper of sliding steel attracting Vic's attention. She half-turned, then flipped away, the ninjas making a path before her. She turned, smirked, and beckoned.

Ravager swore. "Hood, cover me," she snarled, lunging for her opponent. The ninjas started to swarm her, only to be dropped one at a time with tranq darts.

" _Robin, Spoiler, help me!"_ Grayson called. He was near the centre of the warehouse, crouching among the heat-vision-scarred wreckage. A purple blur joined him, before Robin flipped down, annoyed at losing his fight, but Grayson had seniority, and Robin knew he must have a good reason for calling him down.

Grayson was kneeling on a hatchway, the lock and hinges twisted. "Be ready," he warned, before grabbing the hatch and yanking it up. They ducked, Grayson using the hatch as cover, as a hail of bullets came up. When the deadly storm ceased, they looked up, to see David Cain standing above them, having emerged from the bunker. A black streak flew through the air, Black Bat planting her boots on her father's chest and knocking him back. Batman descended, and the two circled their enemy.

Grayson dropped the hatch, and jumped down, Robin and Brown on his heels. The underground chamber was dark, the illumination used for the video call removed. The sound of the fight above was muffled; the chamber sound-proofed. They could clearly hear the slow, strained breathing of an individual in pain.

There was a click, and a flare of light; Grayson had pulled out and switched on his flashlight. He swept the beam around, eventually stopping on a figure at the far end. "Timmy?" he asked, voice filled with sorrow.

Drake had his head turned away from the light shining in his eyes. As Grayson moved the beam down, he looked back up. Both eyes were freshly blackened, the cut on his face and newly-split lip spreading blood, some now dry and crusty, matting in his hair. His shoulder showed signs of being roughly bandaged from the knife wound last week. His hands, cuffed so tightly to the high arms of the chair they hung suspended above his lap, were curled slightly, failing to conceal the fractured fingers. "Dick?" he croaked.

Grayson thrust the flashlight into Robin's hand and moved forward, kneeling to pick open the cuffs and free their brother. "I'm here, Tim," he murmured. "You're safe now."

"Thank goodness," the injured teen mumbled. "Wasn't sure you'd got the message. And Cain really wasn't happy, he- oh, hey, gorgeous."

Brown had gone over to help free Drake, and he seemed to be trying to focus on her. "Didn't mean for him to threaten you," he continued. "But that put him off-guard, so I could talk to you, so that wasn't too bad…"

"Tim." Grayson cut off his babbling, taking hold of his chin and looking into his eyes. "Have you been drugged?"

"Yeah," Drake answered. "Truth drug, lot of truth drug. Cain wanted to know what I said. Did I tell him? Not sure, might have done. It's not very clear." His head lolled as Grayson released him and returned his attention to the cuffs. "He was preparing an ambush," Drake continued. "Don't want you killed. Unless you're already dead, and _I'm_ dead, and this is the afterlife…? Nah, Jason said being dead didn't hurt."

"We're all still alive, Tim," Brown said gently as she and Grayson finished. "We just need to get you out of here now, okay?"

"Okay," Drake muttered, leaning heavily on Grayson and Brown as they helped him up. "Sounds like there's still fighting. How did you find me if there's still fighting?"

"Borrowed a few Titans for a distraction," Grayson answered. "Superboy found you. Robin, is the coast clear?"

"You brought the Demon Bird?" Drake blurted.

Robin stared at him, outraged that he'd insult him so to his face. Before he could retort, someone thudded to the chamber floor behind. He whirled, seeing one of the female assassins rising to attack. He shone the flashlight straight in her eyes turning up the intensity to near-blind her. He slashed at her arm with his sword, disarming her, and whacked her with the flat of the blade to knock her out. He turned back to his brothers. "Drake, _what_ did you call me?"

"Well, 'member that time I got called a demon bird?" Drake was slurring his words, swaying in Grayson and Brown's arms. "No, you don't, you weren't there," he continued, ignoring Robin's infuriated glare. "An' I thought, that's you. I mean, _Bruce_ was called a Bat-Demon when he started, 'cause he's scary, and _you're_ scary, so you're quite like him that way." He blinked owlishly. "And isn't Ra's al Ghul known as the Demon's Head?"

Robin blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, and blinked again. He quickly thought through Drake's argument. It sounded…quite reasonable. Almost complementary. "If it'll stop Grayson from calling me 'babybird', I'll take it." Ignoring Grayson's disappointed 'hey', he jumped back out the hatch returning to battle.


	28. Finally Free

**Family Ties Chapter 28 Finally Free**

The disadvantage of fighting your old mentor is that you both have a fairly good idea of what the next move is. The advantage of fighting alongside his remarkably talented daughter is that you can use team tactics so your opponent doesn't know where the next sequence is coming from. Also, it helped spread the injuries.

Batman had twisted, possibly sprained, his wrist, and his shoulder ached. Black Bat appeared to be favouring one knee, and he wanted her abdomen checked out later. Cain, by contrast, was nursing a fractured ankle, cracked ribs, torn tendons in the elbow, a broken nose and possible internal injuries. There would quite possibly be more injuries before they finished.

Batman took the lead in the next sequence, one they'd practised against Nightwing three hours earlier. It was designed to push the opponent into a vulnerable position, allowing injury. It wasn't a strategy used in one-to-one, because it also left the aggressor open.

Batman pushed Cain back, and Black Bat tripped him. As he fell, Batman stomped on his hand. As the little metacarpal bones fractured, Cain twisted, sweeping his legs and knocking Batman down. Black Bat flipped, separating them as they got to their feet. They resumed their positions for the next sequences, just as before, but with another injury on Cain's part. The new manoeuvre had worked.

Cain took the offensive, a flurry of strikes aimed at Batman while fending off Black Bat. But he over-extended a counter, and Batman pushed him away.

Behind Cain, Batman saw Nightwing and Spoiler lifting Tim free from the underground bunker. He half-nodded to Black Bat, as Superboy swept down and took Tim away. Time to finish up.

Black Bat started into the "unstoppable" routine, a momentum-building series of strikes that would either land or be deflected until the final strike tore out the victim's throat. Batman had found a way to reverse the flow of the sequence, making the defender the aggressor, but his part was to prevent Cain from implementing that manoeuvre. The two-pronged attack kept Cain off-balance, until the final strike.

As Black Bat tensed for the final lunge, Batman kicked Cain's feet from under him. As Cain fell a second time, Black Bat sprang forward, and Batman tossed out a batarang she snatched out of the air. Black Bat landed on Cain's chest, the batarang pressed to his jugular. Batman bent, grabbed Cain's skull, and slammed it into the ground, knocking him out.

They hadn't been positive that would work. They'd prepped a dozen variants, but still agreed to keep Cain busy until Tim was out of danger before attempting it.

Batman looked up, examining the rest of the warehouse. Nightwing and Spoiler had presumably followed Superboy and Tim out; they weren't anywhere in sight. Red Hood was distracting Lady Vic with rubber bullets, Ravager knocking the last of her weapons from her hands. Kid Flash and Batgirl were tying up Deadshot. Robin was running amok (more or less; there didn't _seem_ to be any corpses) with his sword, and Wonder Girl was dropping one of the last remaining ninja – literally, from thirty feet up.

The warehouse was a mess; but the ninja clean-up was well in hand. Batman caught Batgirl's eye, gestured to say she was in charge, and left to see to his son.

Outside, it had stopped raining. It was ten to five, but too late into the autumn to see the start of dawn. The streetlights illuminated the main pathways, and the quartet huddled near the door. Coming up to them, Batman could see Tim's injuries all too well. Superboy was holding him up with TTK so Nightwing could examine the shoulder wound, and Spoiler was gently scrubbing dried blood from his face. They seemed to be giving the fingers a wide berth.

"Bruce!" Tim gasped, catching sight of him. "I'm so sorry, I tried, I really did, I smashed a burette on his head and tried using the acid bottles as grenades, but-"

"Tim." Batman resisted the drive to let his concern show on his face; his third son _never_ babbled. "How bad is it?"

"Other than the fingers, shoulder and face?" Tim answered quietly, even though the question had been more general. "Legs don't feel too great, and I'm _starving_ , but Kon didn't see any more breaks or signs of internal injuries, I don't have a concussion, so it could have been worse-"

"Timmy," Nightwing interrupted gently, before turning to Batman. "He's OD'ed on truth drug as well."

"Just so tired of resisting it, Bruce," Tim explained, and looking closely, Batman could see signs of a fever starting. The boy was also having trouble focusing. "I knew I had to, to give you the best chance to get me without giving up Cass. Is she okay? I can't see her…"

"She's making sure Cain stays unconscious." Batman thought hard. The police would be here soon. They'd planned the next bit carefully. The Titans would hide, then his children would start leaving once the cops had confirmed their presence. Superboy, Wonder Girl and Kid Flash would assist in getting everyone home before Gordon called with the good news. Another slight adjustment to help preserve their identities – like that legendary ride attributed to highwayman Dick Turpin, going from Kent to York faster than believed possible to establish a supposedly solid alibi (and his boys would have fun with _that_ one). But with Tim like this…

"Okay, listen, son," Batman said, trying his best to sound comforting. "We're going to have to-"

"Sedate me," Tim finished for him. "You'll say I was in too much pain, but it's because I can't keep secrets right now. Good plan. I like it."

Batman smiled inwardly, not letting it show. Tim was one of the smartest people he knew, even when out of his mind on truth drug. He really shouldn't be surprised he'd figured out the plan. "What's your resistance to the spray like?"

"Not great, we reworked the formula last month." Tim finally gave up on trying to focus. "Making the pain go sounds nice," he admitted quietly.

Batman nodded and pulled out the can, dispensing a generous portion of vapour. Tim inhaled, and slept, finally free.


	29. Waking Up

**Family Ties Chapter 29 Waking Up**

Tim slowly awoke, feeling a dull ache in his limbs and a strange numbness in his hands. He opened his eyes and found himself staring at a familiar patch of ceiling. Carefully moving his head, he glanced around his bedroom in the Manor, noting the slight changes. There was an IV drip next to the bed, the line going into his arm. Most of the papers on his desk had been moved to make room for a crate of medical supplies. There were six other people in the room. Wait, what?

He blinked, and counted again. Six. Someone had dragged a couch into his room (they'd have to remove it later, just not enough room), and Cassie, Kon and Bart were collapsed upon it. Dick and Bruce had dragged chairs over to the bed, and Steph was curled up next to his feet on the bed. All fast asleep.

Moving carefully and quietly to avoid waking anyone, Tim sat up. Lifting his hands to examine his fingers, he found them tightly bound with splints on either side of each finger. "Must be a local anaesthetic," he murmured absently, feeling the presence but not the pressure.

"Tim?" said a voice to his left. Time looked over and saw Dick blinking blearily at him. Bruce was also waking up, and he could feel Steph stirring.

"Um, morning?" Tim said, feeling a little guilty. He hadn't _meant_ to speak aloud and wake everyone.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce asked.

"Bit woozy." Tim thought back, trying to work it all out. "What happened last night? It's all a bit blurry."

"You've been out for about twenty-six hours," Dick told him after a momentary pause.

"What?" Tim thought for a moment. "Actually, that one makes sense."

"You almost ran a fever, 'bout eighteen hours ago," Steph explained. "It died down, but then we were keeping you sedated until the truth drug ran out, and there was a _lot_."

"So you may have urges to tell the truth, whether you want to or not," Dick said grinning mischievously. "I fully recommend you indulge those urges."

Tim nodded seriously. "Have I ever told you what a wonderful explanation of the word 'onomatopoeia' you are?" he said seriously.

Dick looked outraged as Steph burst out laughing, and even Bruce smirked. "He's got you there, _Dick_ ," Steph giggled.

"Hey, you're awake at last!" Kon exclaimed, having been woken by all the laughter. "How you feeling?"

"Been better, but I'm fine," Tim assured him. "Someone gonna tell me what happened?"

"Cass reckoned Cain wouldn't expect us near dawn," Dick explained, "So we made it look like we were playing safe with a lengthy stakeout, then sent in the Titans as a distraction to put him off-guard."

"All of you?" Tim asked, directing to question to his teammates.

"We were aiming to look like we decided to disobey Batman and take matters into our own hands," Cassie said. "So that was the scenario I presented everyone. Solstice, Bombshell and Miss Martian trusted B to sort it out. Cyborg and Raven wanted to ask if we could help, and Kon and Bart decided they were more loyal to you than scared of the big bad Bat." She winked at Bruce, to show she was only teasing.

"And Ravager?" Tim asked, seeing who was left out.

"Hasn't had a good scrap with assassins in months, and, in her words, 'wasn't about to let some guy dressed as a flying rodent get between her and a fight with some competent opponents'," Cassie quoted dryly.

"No wonder she's getting on so well with Jason," Bruce sighed. "But you know you would have compromised our identities if you _had_ come in without asking?"

"We'd have come up with some excuse," Cassie shrugged. "Officially Red Robin's recuperating from a training accident at the Tower, so if he was running mission control…"

"Good story, I'll have to remember it," Tim muttered. "So, uh, were there any injuries? Is everyone okay?"

"More or less," Dick said cheerfully, but his eyes slid sideways to a bandage wrapping Bruce's wrist. "But Cain's in a bad way. Seems _someone_ crushed his hand just a little."

"Really?" It was wrong, but Tim couldn't help the warm, fuzzy feeling that news gave him. "Anything else?" he asked casually.

"He won't be trying _that_ stunt again anytime soon," Bruce growled. "You can read the report later. You're safe, that's what matters."

"Lady Vic looked terrible," Dick added, moving the topic on. "By the time Jay and Rose finished with her, she looked like she interrupted a wasp nest while sprinting through a very thick forest. All welts and nicks."

"AndDeashot'stakingangermanagement," Bart supplied, words running together in the classic speedster-not-quite-paying-attention way. "Hedidn'tlikenotbeingabletohitme. Hewasreallymadaboutit."

"He prides himself on never missing. 'Course he wasn't happy," Steph smirked.

"Okay, that's enough for now," Bruce said. "Dick, go find Leslie. Steph, tell Cass and the boys Tim's awake, and you're all going back to school-"

"Do we have to?" she interrupted.

" _Yes_ ," Bruce told her. "The more time you take off now, the harder it will be for you take days off when you really need it. You, Tim and Cass _all_ got expelled for missing class last year, remember?"

"We were pretty busy that year," Tim pointed out.

"We're trying to do better this year. And we're running out of schools."

"Stop sniggering, you three," Dick admonished the Titans from where he'd paused in the doorway. "You have no idea how hard it is to get through class with bruised ribs."

"If you say so," Kon shrugged.

"Fine, we're going," Steph capitulated under Bruce's glare, kissing Tim on the cheek before following Dick out. Bruce turned to the Titans.

"Aren't you going to tell your friends Tim's awake and well?" he suggested mildly, the implication clear.

"Just going now," Cassie said, springing up. "We'll be back later, Tim."

"Thanks. And can you put the couch back on your way out?" the teen asked. Kon grinned and picked it up like it was an empty cardboard box as they left, leaving Tim alone with his father, if only for a moment. Bruce gently took hold of Tim's hand, letting the simplicity of the action speak volumes his words never would; he was so, so relieved to have his son back.

"Tim?" Cass appeared in the doorway, her every move contrition. "I'm sorry."

"You'd only have to be if you gave in," Tim told her softly, and as her face broke into a smile, he knew that, no matter what had been done to him, the worst damage, mental trauma to his sister, was over.


	30. Check-Up Time

**Family Ties Chapter 30 Check-Up Time**

Tim frowned as Cass left. "How's she coping?" he asked Bruce.

"I don't think she'll be reconciling with her father any time soon," Bruce told him dryly. "Or ever. But how about _you_?"

"Bruce, I _knew_ you were coming for me as soon as you could," Tim said. "But don't try telling me Cass doesn't still have issues with her past."

"She was really tempted to trade herself for your freedom," Bruce admitted. "Your message convinced her not to take Cain's deal, but it was close."

Tim reached up and touched the bandage covering the gash on his face. "Then it was worth it," he said simply.

"Then you're all masochists," Leslie said, entering the room. "Hold out your arm." Tim kept still while she drew a blood sample, and gave it to Dick, who'd trailed in after her. "Take that down and run it through the analysis; it should still be set up." Dick nodded and vanished. Leslie turned back to her patient. "Let's start with the shoulder."

"Cain did have it treated," Tim told her. "He didn't want to deal with an infection."

"Considering Bruce's temper, I'm not surprised; no-one's foolish enough to return one of Batman's own with a potentially fatal infection," Leslie murmured, opening Tim's pyjama top to see the wound.

Bruce, gently stroking the exposed back of Tim's hand, raised an eyebrow. _'Do you really blame me?'_ the Look said, and Tim pushed his hand closer in response.

"In general, you're intact," Leslie continues. "I've seen a lot worse from you lot." Her eyes shifted to Bruce, who'd once needed her to help him recover from a broken back. "Your legs are fine, by the way. Worst case of cramp I've ever seen, but uninjured."

"You're kidding," Tim said, staring at her. "I complained about _cramp_?"

"It was bothering you, and it seems your sense of discretion is somewhat affected by excessive quantities of truth serum," Leslie's voice got vaguely sarcastic as she wrapped the shoulder. "But normally you wouldn't mention being hungry, either. He didn't feed you much, did he?"

Tim shrugged his uninjured shoulder. "He wasn't trying to starve me, but it wasn't exactly a priority."

"Well, you've been on a drip for a day, so there'll be no lasting harm from that. Don't eat too much too soon; I'm sure you know how it works." Tim nodded; after the No Man's Land problem, everyone who hadn't left Gotham had struggled with readjusting to regular, filling meals without inducing nausea, so he was well aware of how to slowly readjust to normal meals.

Leslie pressed on the neatly stitched wound, causing Tim to suck in a breath and Bruce to grip his hand tighter. "Well, that's healing nicely," Leslie said, falsely cheerful. "I had to put two stitches in your lip and reset your nose, but that cut is shallow enough that it just needed butterfly sutures and tape to keep it clean. Next time an assassin's holding a knife to your face, don't irritate him."

"What about my fingers?" Tim asked.

"They're the worst of it, I'm afraid. You'll have to keep them splinted for at least six weeks."

Tim looked down at his hands, aghast. He couldn't move the fingers an inch, although his thumbs were free. But he couldn't type, couldn't pick up or hold anything. He wouldn't even be able to eat or dress without help. "Six weeks?" he moaned.

"If you don't, they may never heal," Leslie said sternly. "I'm putting you on painkillers and anti-inflammatories for a month. If you pull your usual stunt and stop taking the painkillers next week – not that you _should_ –" she glared at the innocent-looking Bats "- then at least stay on the anti-inflammatories." She pulled the IV needle from his arm, put a band aid over the cut, and started dismantling the drip. "I'll be checking up on you every night this week, and frequently after that. Stay in bed today, and you can get up tomorrow. If it goes okay, you should be able to go back to school the day after, although personally I'm not sure that would be a terribly great idea."

"We'll sort something out," Bruce said softly, still holding Tim's hand. "Thank you, Leslie."

"Just be sure to keep him in at night," she grumbled.

"I was going to anyway," Bruce pointed out, rolling his eyes.

"Good." Leslie gathered up her equipment and headed for the door. "Heal well."

Tim waited until Leslie had left before pulling away and trying to sit up further. "Six weeks?" he said. "What am I meant to do for six weeks? Can't write, can't type…I can't do anything!"

"Tim." Bruce moved over so he was sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around the distressed teenager. "Calm down. We'll work it out. It'll be fine."

Tim wriggled further into the embrace. "I don't like feeling so…dependent," he whispered. "Helpless. A burden."

"You're not a burden, Tim. It's not your fault, either. It's going to be okay."

"Yeah, I know, but…"

"Tim." Bruce cut him off again. "You're incredibly intelligent. That hasn't changed, has it? And this is only temporary. A month and a half, then you can get back on the streets. In the meantime…" He let go of Tim and pulled away. "Hold out your hands," he instructed. Slightly confused, Tim did so.

Bruce reached out, picked something up, and dropped it onto Tim's palms. He automatically grasped it with his thumbs and looked at it. A Kindle eBook reader.

"I thought that would be easiest for you to use," Bruce explained. "There's an account set up and I added fifty dollars to start you off. Don't spend it all on teen vampire romance."

"I do have standards, Bruce," Tim rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I've been meaning to get a new copy of _Lord of the Rings_ since Damian borrowed mine and got blood all over it."

Bruce sighed and shook his head. "For some reason, I'm not that surprised. By the way, you've managed to start something with him."

"Really?" Tim frowned. "What? And how?"

"You called him 'Demon Bird', and defended it so well he adopted it as a nickname."

Tim stared for a moment, then shook his head. "I did think it suited him. Never thought he'd take it as a compliment, though. You really do learn something new every day."

Bruce smirked. At least that was one area of contention between his boys removed. Maybe one day they'd all live happily together…


	31. More Than Just Pettiness

**Family Ties Chapter 31 More Than Just Pettiness**

Tim sat at the Batcomputer, one hand resting on the keyboard and running through Dick's research with his thumb on the arrow pad. Luckily for him, it was easy to scroll through the list after Dick had called it up before heading off for college. Continuing to investigate Huntress with such imperfect computer control was almost impossible, and Bruce had agreed it could wait.

Despite Leslie's ruling that he was medically fit to return to school, they were still working out the practicalities, so he wouldn't be going back until the following Monday. Leaving him home, bored, for another day.

So he dove, as best he could, into the pet project they'd put on hold nearly two weeks ago. Petty vengeance may not be desperately important, but the Waynes had to maintain a certain standing. It was something _he_ understood, and Bruce, and probably Damian as well, having all been born into the high society (even if the Drakes were fairly low-tier). These little subtleties would most likely be missed by the others. The Waynes were _up there_ , the high-flyers, even if Bruce had let it go a bit. The Swifts were of a lower position. By showing such clear disrespect to Jason at school, Darren Swift had challenged their relative positions. By turning the insult into scorn at the other's limited life experience, Tim had rescued to situation, but not enough to stop the Swifts trying again.

There was nothing wrong with climbing the social ladder. By marriage, or adoption- those were perfectly acceptable methods of societal advancement- and that was what was responsible for the current large size of the family, even if street kids and circus boys were somewhat 'common'. But there were other ways; if you proved capable of earning and distributing large amounts of money, and actually made the effort to learn and interact properly with the established society (rather than assume money equals status and bemoan the 'exclusivity' without trying to integrate). _Un_ acceptable methods involved sabotaging a higher-tier family's reputation- such as publically mocking an adopted son of one of the oldest established families…

After Darren Swift's action, and Tim's response, there were two ways it could go. The Waynes could let it go; lower families may view it as a weakness, but older and higher families would see it as a sign of graciousness to a foolish upstart. Whereas publically snubbing them would satisfy Swift's rivals, but it would be seen as overkill by the Waynes' peers. Dealing with the lower families would be easier than the older-Bruce simply hadn't had time to maintain full, proper relations with them while running WE and the Mission.

Which was where the revenge scheme came in. It was not… _uncommon_ to have less than perfectly legal items in your possession. Some Wayne heirlooms had dubious pasts, but Bruce had been relatively fastidious about tracking down anyone else who may have a claim and quietly making remuneration. But many, younger families in particular, saw such items as status symbols, things to show off in private. Losing such items would be a blow to the ego, if nothing else.

The best bit was it could hardly be traced to them. And if the Swifts insisted on blaming them, no-one would believe them and they could just move to the next stage of social retribution with a public snub. At that point, it would be a good idea to sit the others down and explain it to them. It was really Bruce's responsibility, but he had other priorities.

He heard a soft scuffling on the stair, and turned to see Selina descend. "Tim?" she called softly. "How are you?"

"Hey," he said, his smile slightly strained. "Not great, really. You?"

"Been doing some jobs for Riddler," she admitted.

"Anything in particular?" Tim asked, pushing the slight twinge at the apparent betrayal and thinking rationally. Selina would only be here, talking to him about it, if she had information.

"He was after a whole lot of complex little pieces, light sensors coded to specific wavelengths and such. I can get you a list. But it seems Riddler's not calling the shots this time. He's devising the traps, but Cluemaster's picking the targets. Unfortunately, he doesn't trust me." Selina shrugged and moved over to the computer, kneeling to take Tim's broken hands. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

Tim smiled. "I doubt Cain would have let you just steal me away," he said lightly.

Selina laughed. "No, I suppose not," she agreed. "Anyway, I heard you had a job for me?"

Tim nodded. "Yup. You know the Swift family?"

"Shippers," Selina nodded. "Rather clumsy social climbers; seem to prefer usurping older established families to allying with them."

"That would be them," Tim confirmed. "How do you feel about going in and nabbing anything that takes your fancy?"

"Now that sounds fun." Selina stood, and stretched her lithe form. "Do I get to keep it?"

"'Fraid not, we've got something more humiliating planned," Tim smirked. "But you can be fairly sure of a spot on Bruce's arm at the Hallowe'en ball."

"Bribing me with dates?" Selina laughed.

Tim raised an eyebrow. "Bruce will be thrilled to have someone he actually likes to dance with, and you know as well as I do how much your social standing improves when you go out with Bruce."

Selina nodded. "True," she acknowledged. "Fair enough, but I wouldn't mind a little extra something. The Youth Centre could do with some better sports equipment. Anything in particular you wanted?"

Tim supressed a smile at Selina's request; she _loved_ the Narrows, her home district, and despite moving to more prestigious quarters, still funded various initiatives to help the residents. "Look through this file, we need all the items listed on it, plus whatever else you come across," he said.

"That's a lot," she muttered. "Might need to borrow one of the girls to help move it."

"Whatever you need," Tim muttered, glad that, once again, the unique combination of talents was in union.


	32. Secrets Upon Secrets

**Family Ties Chapter 32 Secrets Upon Secrets**

"You do it then; if it's so easy!"

Tim was now more or less completely fed up. Dick would not stop nagging him to get this fact, or that file, or give this case a look over, despite the fact he couldn't actually use the computer.

"We got that speech recognition thing, didn't we?"

"Oh yes, that. Just about bearable for writing up reports; completely, terribly useless for pretty much anything else!"

"You know, I always thought Saturday mornings were for lie-ins, not shouting matches." The boys turned to look at Babs entering the cave. "What is it this time?"

"Barbara, can you use the computer properly without the use of your fingers?" Tim asked stiffly.

She shrugged. "Not really. Certainly not well enough to feel comfortable trying to mission control – not without a specialized interface, anyway."

"What about the voice computer?" Dick asked.

"You mean the Stupid-computer in the Secret Annexe?" Tim asked.

"You have a secret annexe I haven't heard of before? Why am I not surprised?" Selina descended the passage, a cardboard box in her arms. She dropped it onto a workbench and turned to Dick. "There's more in the car. Go bring them in for me, would you?"

"Why me?" Dick griped, heading up anyway.

"Because you're a big, strong boy with no broken fingers," Selina called after him, then turned to Tim. "Secret Annexe?"

"When Bruce announced the existence of Batman Incorporated, we set aside sections of some R&D labs in the Tower and isolated them from the rest of the labs, but not from each other. It's basically a block of labs, ground floor, four above, one below, within the Tower. It's technically called the Batman Incorporated Analytical, Research and Development Laboratory Complex, but it got nicknamed the Secret Annexe because we're the only ones who can get in."

"And because it's such a long, boring name?"

Tim grinned. "That too."

"Anyway," Babs interrupted. "We tried developing a voice-activated computer. You should see the coding; tried to take into account every language and accent. It overloaded the system. Virtually the entire memory bank is full of sound recognition protocols, and it's still not perfect. Once, I dropped a pencil next to the microphone; it thought I was swearing in Tamashek."

"We ironed out that one. It now works near-perfectly if you speak clearly and use HTML programming language," Tim continued.

"You speak HTML, Tim, what's the problem?" Dick had returned, and set a stack of boxes on the workbench.

"At the moment, if we want to run any sort of program, even Microsoft Office, we need to plug in the relevant external hard drive to convert the input. That thing's memory usage is insane," Tim explained.

"We're trying to get it to accept normal instructions," Babs continued. "Then we might be able to get rid of the junk programming there's almost certainly clogging the memory. We just need a couple of months to focus on it."

"Didn't you say it's full of language protocols?" Selina asked. "What if you got rid of most of the languages, so it would just recognize English, and then make it work before adding more?"

Tim and Babs stared at her for a moment, then turned to each other. "Why didn't we think of that?" Tim asked.

"Just didn't occur to us," Babs replied, looking annoyed. "Might work, too."

"Got some free time," Tim muttered. "I'll see what I can do."

"Great, now what's in the boxes?" Dick asked.

"Let's unpack and have a look," Selina smirked. "I think there's more?"

Taking the hint, Dick left again, grumbling to himself. Babs and Selina started emptying the boxes, and Tim drifted over to watch. There was a selection of jewellery, some silver plates, cutlery and candelabra. And when Dick returned, it was with two boxes of gold Egyptian figurines.

"Talk about bling," Tim said listlessly.

"You okay, Tim?" Babs asked.

Tim paused, then shook himself. "Yeah, I'll be fine. So, this all you got?"

"Well, I tried taking everything not nailed down, but I ran out of room," Selina said, rolling her eyes. "But one of those did look familiar." She picked up the Bast statuette.

"Really? From where?" Tim asked.

"I'm not sure," Selina mused. "It was a while ago, and I'd have thought I'd remember coming across a thing like this."

"May I?" Dick said, taking and examining the figure. "Gimme a sec." He returned to the computer, and called up a file. "Selina, could you have a look at this? Theft and murder in an antiques place a few years back; only thing missing was a gold Bast statue."

"I remember _that_ now," Selina said, reading the report over Dick's shoulder. "It wasn't me, but Penguin was trying to get me to work for him. Sent one of his guys who used to be on Joker's crew."

"And you're sure this is it?" Tim asked. "We got it from the Swifts, the Swifts got it from the Drakes; when did it end up in a shop?"

"The one in the shop was a fake," Selina told him. "I might still have that copy somewhere, though. I reckon it could be a pretty good match."

Babs stared at the statue, and the picture on the screen. "Well, here's a mystery and no mistake," she said, tongue-in-cheek. "Exciting enough for you, Tim?"


	33. Escalation

**Family Ties Chapter 33 Escalation**

" _What_ have you four been working on?" Bruce growled.

Barbara, Dick, Tim and Selina turned from the computer, and looked at Bruce. Then they all looked at Tim, who looked at Dick, as they silently nominated candidates for telling Bruce. Tim sighed.

"Well, originally it was just our plot to take the Swifts down a bit, but it…escalated."

Bruce closed his eyes, resisting the urge to massage his brow as he felt a headache threaten to appear. It was Sunday morning; couldn't he have _one_ day off without the boys wrecking something? "What did you do to them?"

"What makes you think we did anything?" Dick whined. They all looked at him. "Oh, right, um…well, it wasn't us this time."

Ignoring him, Tim gestured to a workbench holding several cardboards boxes and two identical-looking statues. "Catwoman retrieved certain valuable objects from their possession two nights ago," Tim explained. "You probably recall we were going to have Matches Malone set up an auction and tip off both the Swifts and the police. Well, among the items Selina…recovered, was this figurine of the cat-goddess Bast."

Bruce moved over to the bench. "Which one?" he asked.

"This one," Selina said, joining him and pointing to one of the twin statues. "It happened to match a cold case Dick had been working on recently, where it had been stolen from an antiques boutique. But I already knew that the one in the shop was a fake; a near-perfect fake, but not quite good enough. Penguin gave it to me as a bribe to get me to work for him, but when we both knew it was a fake, we parted amiably with no agreement. But it was being sold as genuine, and Penguin's man killed the proprietor, who was the only one who'd have been able to explain how he got it."

"The thief died in Blackgate thirteen months ago, by the way," Tim added. "Anyway, Selina kept hold of her replica, and it exactly matches the one from the Swifts. So we did some digging. Michael Swift, the family patriarch, had three different bank accounts. One deals with Swift Transport, one manages various other investments and such - they take household expenses from that one. The third hasn't been used in quite some time. It's an old savings account. But, that's the one he used to buy all those trinkets from my parents. There were several other payments, quite a few actually, made to an account we traced to a master forger."

"This guy's good, but not the best," Selina interrupted. "He fancies himself an artist, but it's just copying, no originality. Point is, he always leaves a mark of his own somewhere. You just have to know what to look for."

"So we went back to the replica," Tim continued. "Surprise, surprise, we found the forger's mark. Turns out Swift was having his statues copied, then sold by that antiques dealer for a cut of the sale. But that's not the interesting bit."

"What is?" Bruce asked, his curiosity piqued.

"The profit from this little scheme was building up for a bit, then Swift withdrew almost all of it," Tim explained. "Shortly after, he bought a couple of new ships and started plying the Far East trade routes. And here's the funny thing: he charges more than pretty much anyone else, not by a lot, but enough to be noticeable. Yet they never lack customers. That got us thinking, so we ran a search, see if there was anything in the Batman Incorporated files, and we considered contacting Mr Unknown in Japan. Before we could, one of our own files was flagged up. More specifically, Cass's report on the trafficking case in the Philippines. The traffickers were using Swift Transport. Then we got another dozen or so hits, all in relation to smuggling of some variety. We theorize that Swift Transport offers discreet movement of less than legal goods in exchange for that little extra on the bill."

"We don't have any kind of conclusive proof yet," Barbara said. "We went back last night, copied the PC hard drives, copied every disc and memory stick we could find, photographed all the relevant paperwork. We intend to do the same in their offices, and I think we really need some sort of long term activity in the Far East. I mean, yeah there's Unknown, and Cass has spent a fair bit of time in Hong Kong, but we need more. I know Cass recommended finding someone for the Philippines, and it looks like we really need to consider that more urgently."

"If we put aside the widespread problems in the area, and just focus on Swift Transport's influence," Tim mused, "we could go on a simple data retrieval, hit all their offices in the region, copy their files, and then sort that out. We could make an appreciable dent in their operations. It would disrupt the trafficking, but we'd still need someone out there. It's just that we've managed to make it exceedingly difficult for ourselves."

"How so?" Bruce asked.

The quartet exchanged glances. Dick winced. "We didn't realise what we were dealing with. We've got pretty firm evidence Swift was involved in the forging and selling of fake antiques. But that funded the smuggling ships…We _don't_ want to hold onto the stuff Selina nicked for too long, but if we bring up one aspect of their shady behaviour, we risk dragging the rest in before we're ready."

"We were planning on staging that auction on Wednesday; we already have all the plans and such for you to approve so we can start arranging it," Tim added. "We've boxed ourselves into a corner and didn't even realise it. Do we delay the auction until we know everything the Swifts have been doing? Or do we deal with the antiques now, and leave enough unresolved that we can take it up again later? If so, do we pass on the selling fakes bit, or just the purchase of illegal artefacts?"

Bruce thought. Getting rid of the goods quickly was a great idea. Leaving loose ends wasn't, but Far East smuggling wasn't in the GCPD's purview anyway. They just needed to get Batman Inc officially involved. "Set up the auction as planned," he decided. "We'll arrange it so we end up with the smuggled artefacts, then we can 'find' the link with the cold case. From there, we can launch an investigation into all Swift's activities worldwide. Let's be thorough. They won't know what hit them."


	34. Jason's Job

Red Hood shut down the computer, removed the external hard drive and tapped the comm in his ear. "Red Hood. Done here."

" _Understood. Transport on its way."_

Red Hood had spent a lot of time as a Bat, done a lot, at virtually every hour of the day. Nights were the streets, crime, violence, bloodshed. Days were recovery, sleeping off the exhaustion, and now, school. With five days of the week tied up in 'learning', the weekends became even more desirable as time to rest. _Not_ as time to be dragged off to Asia and break into multiple buildings, download hundreds of files, and photograph an infinity of papers.

He'd been pulled out of bed at half nine, rushed through breakfast and only just given enough time to suit up before they'd all teleported up to the Watchtower. Re- _Tim_ was using the moniker Oracle to co-ordinate who went where, with the aid of half a dozen Leaguers B had recruited to move them from city to city as fast as possible.

He moved to the roof, waiting for a moment before a glowing green platform appeared in front of him. He stepped on, and a bubble formed as he was lifted up. _"Okay there?"_ GL Hal Jordan asked down the connection from ring to bubble.

"Fine," Red Hood muttered. "Where to now?"

" _Jakarta."_

Red Hood sat down cross-legged as they left Manila, flying at nearly the speed of sound. A small shelf appeared in the bubble, and a miniature bubble slid down, merging with the shelf and opening. Red Hood picked up a new external hard drive, replacing it with the old one, and tucked it in his pocket. He ejected the full memory card from his camera and swapped it for a fresh card.

Within minutes, they reached the city. Hovering above, Hal examined the buildings below, then lowered Red Hood to the relevant roof and shot upwards, returning to the satellite.

"Which floor?" Red Hood asked into his comm.

" _Tenth,"_ Oracle told him. _"There's seventeen in total, so down seven."_

"Yeah, I _can_ count." He pulled out his grapple, and fired it at the edge of the roof.

" _And you've never made a little mistake, some time you were stressed and distracted?"_

Red Hood clipped the grapple to his belt, jumped back, and half-abseiled down, trailing rope above. "Shut up," he growled.

" _All been there, Hood,"_ Oracle drawled. _"Nightwing's done it at least eight times. Calls it 'surveying the perimeter' if anyone calls him up on it."_

"Don't you have anyone else to bother?" Red Hood grumbled.

" _Oh, fine. Just trying to make conversation. Enjoy your data retrieval."_

Muttering about smart aleck adolescent former Robins, Red Hood opened a window, easily bypassing the alarm, and slipped inside.

It would be a loooong afternoon.

* * *

Jason walked into a bar (and did _not_ say ouch, thank you very much Dickie-bird), went up to the bartender and ordered a beer. It was a relief to finally finish the boring, repetitive information retrieval, and this part of the operation was really very pleasant. Dropping a handful of coins to pay for the pint, he took a long draught. He was down in the bad side of town, identifiable by the men, either tough or terrified, and the women, tawdry or timid. Jason had been brought up around here, until Bruce had found him, and returned to it following his resurrection. His current safehouse (technically owned by a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises, but _his_ place) was two streets away. In this bar, as long as you looked old enough for a bit of doubt, you could get drinks, smokes, even some harder stuff or other services, just not from the counter. A back room acted as a gaming parlour. No-one said a word if you lit up. As long as you made no fuss, and didn't advertise the laxity of the law, anything went.

Grinning, Jason leant against the bar, pulled out a cigarette, and clicked his lighter against it. The smoke was sucked into his lungs, and the nicotine hit his bloodstream, calming his nerves. _'And causing cancer, Jay-bird!'_ the voice in his head that sounded like a mixture of Dick and Tim said. The 'voices' turned up with the white forelock; his layers of consciousness acquiring the personalities of his family. His major conscience (the one that dealt with the important question of 'shall I kill this time?' among others) sounded like Bruce; his mischievous side like Dick; and his vicious streak had definitely taken on Damian's almost imperceptible Arabian accent recently. Of course, he'd never admit to any of it; he was already believed halfway insane, no sense admitting to it. At least he was now letting the voices remind him of what he already knew in their own ways without snapping and snarling at them.

Another pull of the cigarette, another mouthful of beer; life was good. The front door opened, and Jason looked over. A girl his age, or a little more, entered. Her tight tank top left her midriff bare, and her black skirt didn't quite meet mid-thigh. High heels, a wealth of wavy black hair, provocative sway of the hips; within seconds the eyes of every male in the room were upon her.

She moved across the room, coming up to the bar next to Jason. "Hey," she said, voice sultry. "Wanna have a good time?"

Jason smiled. _Not_ how he'd been expecting the evening to go. He blew out his mouthful of smoke, head turned aside, then looked back at the alluring female who'd just offered herself to him. "That's why I'm here," he smirked.

"I meant, a good time, with _me_ ," she said, smiling seductively.

Every voice in his head screamed that this was a BAD IDEA. The sway of her hips when she walked, however, and the strangely familiar sparkle in her eyes… "Hey bartender!" he called, slapping a note on the counter. "Something for the lady." He turned back to her. "Jay Peterson."

The girl smiled back. "Rum and coke," she told the bartender. "Name's Holly Walker."


	35. Bad Boy, Pretty Girl

**Family Ties Chapter 35 Bad Boy, Pretty Girl**

Jason smiled at his new friend. "So," he started. "What's a girl like you doing propositioning a guy like me with a phrase like _that_?"

Holly shrugged carelessly. "Oh, you know." The care-free tone of her voice sounded strained. "Girl's gotta eat, and, well, I could do worse. What d'you reckon?"

Jason looked over her again. The voice that sounded like Bruce told him he was in that bar for a reason, and it wasn't to hook up with some random prostitute. The Dick/Tim voice was saying taking off with a prostitute wasn't a good idea anyway. Mischievous Dick just pointed out she was _fit_. A faint memory came to him, from the first time he lived with Bruce and had asked why the female guests who stayed with him tended to do so in guest bedrooms. Bruce had explained that he couldn't afford to get attached, which tended to be a side effect of sleeping with someone. None of this changed the fact that Jason was seventeen, a reasonably healthy male, and so had certain urges. And this girl sure appealed to them. And if his brothers could hang out with pretty girls, why couldn't he?

Another man, at least forty-five and distinctly unsavoury-looking, sidled up behind Holly. "Look, fella, if you're not interested, someone else is," he said, putting his arm around her and leering.

The man started to pull Holly away, and Jason saw a distinct note of disappointment and regret in her eyes. That decided him. His hand shot out and grabbed the other man's wrist. "Don't believe we'd finished here," he responded, removing the man's hand. He turned back to Holly. "Not interested in a quick tumble in the hay, but I wouldn't mind a night out with a damn fine lady. You got an hourly rate?"

"I don't do kinky stuff," Holly warned him.

Jason raised an eyebrow. "Coupla drinks, then go find a nightclub? How's that sound?"

Holly smiled, her eyes calculating. A girl like her tended to charge a flat rate for what her customer wanted, not how long it took. She had to find the right price, not too much, not too low… "Twenty dollars per hour," she decided.

Jason nodded, and reached for his wallet. Bruce made sure they had plenty of pocket money, and he'd taken a fair bit with him in case he had to bribe his way out of anything. He flicked out five twenties, and handed them over.

Holly took them, examined them, then glanced at the clock. "You want me until one in the morning?" she asked.

"Maybe. Depends on how much fun we're having." Jason smiled. "But this way, you can be _mine_ for the evening, however long it lasts."

"As you wish," Holly nodded, putting the money away in her purse. The other man slunk off, evidently realising Jason could pay more than him if he tried to press his suit. "So, now you got me, what d'you want from me?" she continued, resting her chin on her hand, and smiling up at him.

"How about you tell me what led you to your line of work?" Jason suggested, extinguishing his cigarette and taking another sip of his pint. "If you don't mind," he added hastily, realising how insensitive the question may be. "Just, y'know, curious."

"Nothing special, really," Holly replied, sipping her drink as well as she shifted in her seat into a less sultry, provocative position, apparently slipping out of seduction-mode. "Mom died, Dad didn't…cope well, I end up alone and homeless. Gotta get the money somewhere, you know?"

"So you sell yourself?" Jason asked. The story she'd given was not uncommon, but more than a little disappointing that it still happened.

"Not a lot else _to_ sell, and it's not that bad," Holly shrugged. "I'm attractive enough to pick my customers, to a degree. What about you? You sure got money, what you doing around here?"

Conscience-Bruce firmly told him to lie. A cold, hard logic with Tim's voice reminded him a half-truth would do. "First bit's same as you," he said at last. "Mom got sick, Dad left us, she died, I'm on the street. But I ran into this rich guy who adopted me. Turned out I don't really fit in with his life, so I ran off, came back down here. But, well, I got given another chance. So I'm sort of back with him at least until I finish high school. I come down here because it's home."

Holly nodded. "I can understand that. To home." She raised her glass.

Jason clinked his glass against hers, and downed his drink. As he set down the empty glass, he heard a commotion near the door, and looked over to see- Bruce.

Not Bruce Wayne, no; nor Batman; but the same man. "Hey Matches!" one of the other men called to him. "Ain't seen you for a while. How you keeping? Been busy?"

"Eh, not bad," Bruce, in Matches Malone's skin (no, not literally, Dickie-Bird, EW!) said, locking eyes with Jason momentarily before going over to 'his' friends' table.

Jason turned to Holly. "Fancy some food?" he asked. She shrugged. "Burger and fries sound good?" When she accepted, he turned to the bartender, ordered food and fresh drinks, and gestured to a table before paying up. He led Holly to a table within earshot of Matches/Bruce and his mates.

They locked eyes again as Jason sat down, angled so he could see Bruce without being obvious. Bruce flicked a glance at Holly and narrowed his eyes. Jason twitched one shoulder upwards and twisted his lips in half a centimetre of a smirk. Bruce raised the pupils of his eyes heavenwards and quivered his head from side to side. Jason widened his eyes innocently, and turned back to Holly.

"Got hold of the goods from the Swift break-in," Jason heard in Matches' Jersey drawl. "Been setting up an auction for Wednesday night."

Jason smiled. Here he was, 'accidently' hearing all sorts of details for his classmate, as per the plan. And eating dinner with a pretty girl. Meeting Holly's hazel-eyed gaze, he saw that unaccountably familiar sparkle again. Might want to spend more time with this pretty girl…


	36. Progress

**Family Ties Chapter 36 Progress**

"What exactly did you do last night, Jason?" Cass asked as she caught up with Jason and Tim in the school cafeteria.

Jason shrugged, keeping his attention on Tim's tray. The younger teen had been allowed back to school at last, but there were more than a few difficulties. Jason had been helping him with his books all day, and the only way Tim could be making his way through the crowd with the tray balanced on his forearms would be by using the dexterity skills Dick had taught him. To make up for his inability to write, he had permission to use the prototype microcomputer, on the condition it was not used for games or the Internet in class - not difficult as there were no games and the wireless connection constantly crashed. The little gizmo was hung around his neck on a string like an elderly librarian's spectacles.

"Must have done something," Tim said as they arrived at the table.

"Went down to one of my old haunts, saw B, overheard some stuff," Jason replied, slightly irritated.

"And the rest?" Cass insisted, eyes narrowing in examination of every slight twitch.

Jason glared at her. Damn mind-reading. "There was a girl," he admitted. "We had some drinks, went to a club. Got her number."

"Why didn't you say so?" Tim asked.

"Didn't think you'd approve," Jason shrugged.

Tim frowned. "Well, the night life will cause problems if you get serious, but…"

"She's…kinda a prostitute," Jason admitted.

He was suddenly very glad Tim had ordered the soup; if it was anything more solid, the younger teen would be choking on it right now. Good thing he wasn't comfortable enough with the utensil holder and special silverware to use it in public.

Cass passed Tim an open bottle of water as he dealt with the coughing fit. "Wasn't expecting that," Tim gasped. "Right, well, Mia Dearden turned out okay."

"Yeah," Jason agreed, neglecting to mention that the current Speedy no longer had to charge for her time. "What about you, Li'l Bird?"

Tim flushed. Cass grinned. "Dick pulled him out of the Secret Annexe, around four."

"I was working," Tim grumbled. "Need to go back after school, there's something we want to try to see if we can get the Stupid Computer to work."

"What were the results of your analysis, Drake?" Damian asked, appearing from the crowd and joining them.

"I haven't finished yet, and we're _in public_ ," Tim replied. Jason mentally shrugged; he'd never been good at the whole analysis thing. He just didn't have the patience. The logical-Tim-voice reminded him that that was the advantage of teamwork; he could concentrate on the action, and the others tell him where to go. When the data was ready, he'd do as he was told - minus the token protest, of course. Besides, Tim, freaky genius kid that he was, would have a file on the go somewhere he could poach a look at.

Flicking a glance through the crowd, Jason saw Stephanie converging on their position. From the other direction, Darren Swift, without his cronies.

After English class, Jason had caught Darren, and asked for a private chat at lunch, promising some interesting news. Darren had been suspicious, but agreed. Now, he was shooting nervous glances at the other Waynes, not that any but a Bat would know it.

"Might want to talk about something else," Jason muttered. He left his half-finished stew, and got up to meet Darren.

Behind him, he heard Tim talking. "Dami, I need more money."

"I keep telling you, Drake, we need a return before investing in another R&D project."

"I just need a little more, just a bonus for a computer tech's overtime."

"Darren," Jason said, greeting his classmate.

"Hey," the other boy said, his eyes shifting over to Damian and Tim.

"Don't worry about them," Jason said, noting his confusion. "Tim runs Wayne Enterprises' R&D, and Damian manages the finances. They keep arguing over it, it's quite funny sometimes."

Darren nodded, and a curious look came into his eyes. "Wayne Enterprises finances Batman Incorporated, doesn't it?"

"Something like that," Jason shrugged. "They'd know more about it, but they're not allowed to talk. I don't really care, to be honest."

"Oh," Darren said, disappointed. "Woulda thought, pipeline to the gossip and all…"

Jason raised an eyebrow. "I'm from the bad part of town, remember? Only sort of gossip about the Bat _we_ cared about was how to avoid it."

"'Avoid _him_ ', surely?" Darren scoffed, a hint of condescension creeping into his voice.

"You ever _seen_ the Bat?" Jason asked, privately enjoying creeping Darren out. "How can you know it's human until it bleeds?" He shook his head, suppressing a smirk. "Anyway, that's not what I wanted to talk about. Your family had a break-in a coupla nights ago."

"How- what- we didn't- why do you say that?!" Darren snapped.

Jason chuckled. "If you don't want to confirm it, go for 'excuse me, what?' Make it sound like you're genuinely baffled. I might have been acting on a hunch."

Darren sighed. "Okay. Well, what's it to you?"

"Thought you might like your stuff back," Jason said casually. "I was down in one of my old haunts last night; heard some things. Like the fact your gear is being auctioned off on Wednesday." He handed over a piece of folded paper. "Time, location, who to say you're after - all those little details. Do what you want with it, but you didn't get it from me, 'kay?"

"Yeah," Darren said, snatching the page. "Thanks."

"Just doing my bit," Jason smirked, not pointing out just how accurate his words were. He turned back to his family.

"Either eight hours at time and a half, or fourteen at time and a quarter," Damian was saying.

"Time and a quarter? That's a terrible deal," Tim protested. "And we really need ten hours at least."

"Fine," Damian yielded grudgingly. "Ten hours of time and a half. Final offer."

Jason shook his head slightly. Haggling like street traders over an employee's overtime? Madcap revenge schemes? They never did anything normal.

* * *


	37. Two, One

**Family Ties Chapter 37 Two, One**

Dick wasn't using his bike tonight. He had borrowed the Rolls with Bruce's blessing and a brief grumble about having more people off the street, in addition to Red Robin. But it was Babs' birthday, and he'd spent his free afternoon preparing for it.

He pulled up outside the Gordons' modest townhouse, relieved to see the Commissioner's sedan parked outside. It wasn't unusual for him to work long hours of overtime, but he'd tried, and obviously succeeded, in getting the night off (another headache for Bruce, though).

Dick knocked on the door, feeling like it was their first official date all over again. The Commissioner opened the door, and Dick smiled, ducking his head. "Good evening, sir," he said.

"Please, how long have you known me? It's Jim when I'm off-duty." He moved aside to let the younger man in. "Unless you bring news from your family's little night-time operation?"

"B Inc? Nah, it's all fine," Dick replied. "Tim's been griping about how impossible it is to do paperwork with broken fingers, but I think the only real news is the operation tomorrow night, and you already know about that. Is Barbara…?"

"Still getting ready," Jim confirmed. "She should be down any minute."

"Thanks," Dick replied. "So…how's work going?"

"The usual," Jim grunted. "Theft, murder, craziness in Arkham…"

"Not rumblings of another breakout?" Dick asked urgently. The city would have to come first if so; it always did.

"No, just calming everything down. Rebuild's complete; the contractors know to work _fast_ ; so now we're just moving everyone back to normal cells."

"Well, if that's all…" Relieved, Dick quashed the momentary panic that had arisen.

"Dick!"

He looked over at the stair, and felt his face light up. Babs was descending, dressed in the outfit he'd bought that afternoon and left on the doorstep for her. The dress was the same vibrant green as her eyes, reaching mid-calf. It was sleeveless, with a deep v-shaped neckline. A gauzy, pale green wrap clung to her shoulders. Silver shoes, clutch bag and bracelet completed the ensemble.

"My love, you're gorgeous!" Dick exclaimed, before remembering her father was _right there_ , and blushing.

"That's why you like me, isn't it?" Babs laughed.

Dick's world narrowed to him and the girl he gave his heart to. "That, and your brain," he confirmed, gliding over to her. "And your courage. And your kindness. And your bravery." He gathered her hands in his, kissing them.

"And you're starting to repeat yourself," Babs replied, freeing her hands and tweaking his bowtie.

"If you two lovebirds are finished," Jim interrupted.

They both flushed. "You look very dapper, Dad," Babs said.

"Well, I try," Jim grumbled. "Were we going somewhere?"

"Oh, yeah," Dick said. "If we're ready?"

Leaving the house, he opened the passenger doors for Babs and Jim before sliding into the driver's seat.

"It's one of the older clubs," he explained, sliding the car into the traffic. "I got tickets because, well, the name 'Wayne' really does open doors. But there's a great dinner table, dance floor, string quartet. Bit old fashioned, thought you'd like it."

"Sounds delightful," Babs said.

When they arrived, Dick handed the keys off to a valet before helping Babs out of the back. Jim offered her his elbow, which she took, and Dick wrapped an arm around her waist from the other side. He gave the tickets to the man on the door, and they entered, taking seats at a small circular table they were directed to.

After the starter and main course, Dick pulled a small jewellery box from his pocket. "Babs?" he started. "The others have presents for you; probably find 'em as soon as you get home. Jason's doing something to your bike-" _'_ _ **Probably**_ _legal,'_ a slight eye roll added "-and Tim promised a microcomputer as soon as the kinks are worked out. But, well, I got you this." He opened the box, presenting her with an eight-armed swirl. The pendant was silver covered with black enamel, circular, with radiant jewelled arms extending outward in alternating color: red, blue, yellow, and green. With a twist, Dick separated the pendant into two halves, each retaining half the curled arms. In one hand, he held the part with blue and green – in the other yellow and red. "You can wear each star separately, or put them together. What would you prefer for now?" Dick murmured, knowing the subtleties would be lost on most. Red for Robin, yellow for Batgirl, blue for Nightwing, green for Oracle. The pendants were for family, meant to be worn as a sign of commitment.

Babs touched the blue and green, taking hold of it. Dick pulled a silver chain from the box, feeding it through the pendant's loop. He reached up, and Babs leant forward so he could fasten it around her neck.

"And this for you," she said, helping him add the red and yellow to his own chain, nestling among his parents' wedding rings and the pendant representing an old Wayne family emblem - the moon in eclipse.

Later, when Babs stepped out to the ladies' room after dessert, Jim turned to Dick. "I thought for a moment there you were going to propose."

Dick tried not to grimace. "It's not like I don't _intend_ to," he explained. "But I don't want to start planning marriage until we know we can make it work. It's only fair. I mean, look at all the chaos my family has been through of late. It wouldn't be right to just throw Babs into that."

"Waiting for the chaos to die down?" Jim asked, amused.

"Nope, we've given up on that. Waiting to work out how to cope," Dick replied. "But, when we do have it sorted, do we have your blessing?"

Jim smiled. "You two are devoted to each other. Your family already consider her a part of it. You've got a good work ethic, and enough financial resources to not need to worry about money. I'd be delighted to call you my son-in-law."

When Babs returned a moment later, Dick pulled her onto the dance floor, grinning broadly.


	38. Schoolboys Are No Match

**Family Times Chapter 38 Schoolboys Are No Match**

Last night had been a long night. The auction had been going fine, Daddy Swift having been in the process of repurchasing his guilty little secrets when the planned strike went ahead. Matches had been arrested and escaped in transit. The goods had been seized, to be returned to their proper owner. The guests had all been questioned before being released. A few hired thugs were arrested.

Jason had spent the evening with his new girl. Holly was worth every cent he gave her. Of course, he'd technically been on call (though it was deemed prudent he had an alibi, just in case), and so, stayed near his safehouse. Luckily, he hadn't been called.

Holly was an interesting girl to factor in. Jason wasn't sure if he _loved_ her, as their dates would suggest; sure, she was fit, and he liked her company, and her smile, her laugh, THAT DAMN TWINKLE IN HER EYE that was so familiar but he just couldn't place. Not love, not really, but nice enough. And who knew? It was still early days.

Anyway, after dropping his Holly off at a semi-respectable time, he'd been sent to drag Tim out of the Secret Annexe and help him get started on putting together evidence. The younger teen had not been happy, and protested heavily until Jason got around to telling him that yes, it _was_ two already and he needed to get started on the paperwork. Which did quiet Tim down, up until he started telling Jason what to do…

Why he needed an exact description of each and every item recovered from the raid, Jason had no idea. Why he hadn't catalogued them earlier, before the auction, was an even bigger mystery.

At least Tim appeared to be finding the whole process just as infuriatingly annoying.

* * *

The arrogant boor that was Darren Swift had accosted him after English class. Clearly not happy. "I know you had a hand in what happened last night," he'd hissed.

"Last night?" Jason'd drawled. "Spent it with my girl. Dinner and some dances. Why; did something happen?"

Darren had given him a flat, angry, disbelieving glare, refusing to answer. Jason had turned away to hide his smirk, and catch up with Tim.

That had been three classes ago. French finished with and Math homework half done (Tim had appeared to be doing something a little more Bat on his micro, too) and off to lunch. Stop off at the lockers, drop off both bags, check they've got their cards, ignore Tim's patronizing glare-

Wait, where's Tim?

' _He's injured, and your responsibility,'_ Bruce growled disappointedly in his mind.

' _He's meant to be able to take care of himself,'_ said the vaguely Arabic violent streak.

' _C'mon, he's your brother,'_ the Dick/Tim voice said. That one always pointed him to what a proper Robin should do. Strange irony it sounded like both the one he'd usurped and the one who'd usurped him. But he didn't feel like a proper Robin, so why bother trying?

' _Jason. Find your brother,'_ an Alfred-voice said. And that settled it. Jason turned and started to look.

After a moment, he found the younger teen, practically pinned to the wall by none other than Darren Swift. His cronies were flanking him, and Swift himself seemed to be whispering something in Tim's ear. Tim seemed supremely unconcerned.

"So you had a little disappointment last night," Tim responded, loud enough for the entire hallway to hear. "I fail to see why you think I know anything about it." Swift tensed his right arm. "But I do know two things you seem to have neglected," Tim added softly, tensing his own muscles.

What happened next should have been obvious to everyone, even the civilians. To Jason, it looked like Tim was screaming his intentions. He hadn't seen such obvious tensing of muscle on anyone except rank amateurs. Swift swung a punch at Tim's nose, which he dodged and retaliated with an elbow to the throat, knee to the groin, and hooking Swift's ankles from beneath him. Tim slipped between the cronies and crouched next to his fallen classmate.

"First, it really never occurred to you that, with the number of times we've been attacked, Bruce would get us some self-defence training?" Tim whispered, soft enough to be sinister, but loud enough to reverberate through the silent hallway. "Seriously. We've been getting kidnapped since our dear eldest brother's first day in school. And second, I'm the pacifist of the family, and I just kicked your butt without any difficulty whatsoever, even with my hands off-limit. I wonder how well you'd do against Cass, or Jason, both of whom had periods of their lives spent fending and defending themselves on the streets." Just for effect, Tim looked up and very deliberately met Jason's eyes. "Oh look, there's Jay now," he said coldly.

Remembering the truce, and the near-unanimous clamouring of the voices, Jason sauntered forwards, clasping Tim's forearm as the younger rose. "What he means," Jason said loudly, turning to Swift, who was still mewling on the floor, "Is that if you try any of that shit again, I will personally ensure you spend the next six months in traction." He turned away, then threw over his shoulder, as an afterthought. "Get your butt off the ground, you're not _that_ hurt."

"Jason," Tim said, half approvingly, half cautioning.

"I could knock his teeth out for you," Jason offered, only half joking.

"Nah, it's a bit of a bother," Tim replied. "Even if it's just milk teeth." He rotated his jaw unconsciously, and Jason remembered that Tim had lost his last two molars via a fist over the summer.

"If you're sure," Jason shrugged. Tim had the lead, but the inner voices clamoured for retribution. Even faux-Bruce growled protectively. They – he - would be waiting.


	39. Information Exchange

**Family Ties Chapter 39 Information Exchange**

Commissioner Gordon had experienced many unusual occurrences while working with Batman. No Man's Land was just one of the more obvious examples. These days, part of the problem lay in deciphering just who exactly was pulling the strings. In addition to the numerous allies of the Bat, Wayne and his people working on the corporate side of Batman Incorporated appeared to be calling some shots of their own. It was at least simplified in that Wayne kept Batman Inc a family matter; his children might be doing work and running errands perhaps better suited to older, more experienced people, but confidentiality was completely assured. Those kids certainly kept family business private from what he'd seen; which was quite a lot, what with Barbara and Dick spending so much time together over the years, and the frequent kidnappings, and Cassandra appearing, and Jason running off…

At least they seemed to know their stuff. Tim and Damian were quite likely the smartest children in their school, and were known to be fairly heavily involved in both B Inc. and other aspects of Wayne Enterprises business.

So it could take a bit of time to work out who was giving the orders. Sometimes, it was easier than other times. Like when Montoya came in, just before dusk, telling him Red Hood wanted to see him and was waiting at the back door, it was much more likely to be someone else's idea. Probably one of the Waynes.

"Commissioner Gordon," the young man said. "We have information regarding the raid two nights ago."

* * *

Red Hood found escort duty- _not that sort of escort and you know it, so stop sniggering Dickie-bird_ –a bore, but understood it was necessary, and with his leather jacket covering the symbol on his chest, he was somewhat less noticeable, even with his helmet. After all, the differences between it and a motorcycle helmet were largely just a matter of the shape of the bottom and the lack of visor, just lens covered eye holes. And all the extra tech, but that couldn't be seen.

"I can give you a ride, or just guide and guard," Red Hood offered.

"There room for two on that bike?" Gordon asked, buttoning his trench coat.

Red Hood smirked. "Of course. Grab a helmet and let's go." The bikes they used at night were bigger and bulkier than the sleek ones the Wayne family favoured. They had three each; one stored in the sublevel of the Secret Annexe, one in the storage garage in the Batcave, and one in general use, usually moving between the cave, the Annexe, and one of the garages they had in each district. Red Hood's bikes were black, with red highlights and charcoal grey trimmings.

Gordon took one of the police force's helmets and moved over to the vehicle, swinging onto it behind Red Hood. The vigilante brought the bike to life, sending it forward and reaching the speed limit as quickly as possible. They all loved going fast, but moving violations in the presence of the Police Commissioner was such a bad idea he didn't even need to consult his voices. Bruce would bench him for a month.

Dickie-bird would find it hilarious, just _not_ if it happened to him.

Arriving at the Tower, he guided the bike into a hard-to-see underground entrance. He came to a halt next to a specific patch of wall, pulled off one glove and slapped his hand onto a palm reader. Moments later, the basement door to the Secret Annexe opened.

Red Hood parked his bike and led the way to the ramps leading up (they'd say the ramps were to get the bikes up to the workshop on the third floor, but they really dated back to when Barbara was wheel-chair bound).

As they approached the fourth floor, the sound of an argument filtered through the door left ajar. "No, Dami, you can't drive. You can't reach the pedals and it's not legal anyway."

"What do you know, Drake? You just said you can't drive yourself."

Red Hood fully opened the door just as Tim growled back hotly, "Yeah, well, you try it with fingers in splints!"

Tim and Damian were glaring at each other in front of the Stupid Computer - and they'd really need another name for it, especially seeing as they'd hooked a keyboard up to it - while Batgirl and Nightwing watched impassively.

Red Hood pulled off his helmet and set it on the counter, leaving just his red domino mask. He flicked his eyes at his arguing brothers and raised an eyebrow. _'How long has that been going on for?'_

Nightwing stretched his jaw slightly in a mock stifled yawn. _'Too long.'_

* * *

Commissioner Gordon coughed, attracting the attention of the two youngest Waynes. The three vigilantes lined up just to the side as Tim and Damian, reputedly the ones in charge of Wayne's end of Batman Inc, assumed a professional demeanour.

"Commissioner, sir," Tim started. "We finished investigating the items seized in the raid night before last. Sixty percent gave no further concerns. They will be delivered to the HQ by morning to be returned to the Swift family. The others caused some concern. Damian, the file?"

Damian hit a few commands on the keyboard, grumbling under his breath. Gordon couldn't make out the words, but could hear Tim's hissed reply. "Well, Red Robin's in 'Frisco with the Titans until his leg comes out of the cast, so we've got to do this."

While a series of pictures came up on the computer screen, the vigilantes moved forward, setting out a series of statues and such matching the pictures.

"This is from a set of files I…recovered following my father's death," Tim explained. "From the smuggling business. We loaded the files into the system, but, well, I wasn't up for doing anything with them at the time, everyone else was busy, then it got forgotten. But as you can see, we now have some of the items detailed in the files. When we found that, we got curious and stumbled across Swift's financial records."

There was a tiny amount of awkward squirming Gordon only picked up on from his familiarity with the Bats. Damian took over, bringing up a list of figures. "Now, as you can see from this data," he started, and Gordon settled down to listen.

He soon found he had only half an ear on the eleven-year-old's voice, his eyes on Batgirl. Red hair, freckles, body shape, even something of the way she held herself reminded him of his daughter. And, well, Babs _had_ been hanging around the Waynes since she was Damian's age…

Nah. She wouldn't be that reckless ( _'would she?'_ ). Besides, it would put him in a very awkward position if he followed that chain of thought. Best focus on the report.


	40. Discussions Into Oblivion

**Family Ties Chapter 40 Discussions Into Oblivion**

"No."

"But Dami-!"

' _Get to the point,'_ Jason mused, listening to the argument in boredom.

" _No_ , Drake. We cannot afford to develop a new project until we increase revenue. We need a new product to sell. What do you have?"

Tim huffed. "Nothing, really. A few improvements to existing products, some new drugs we might be able to start trialling in a year or two, but that's it."

' _Seriously? All the research you're up to and you don't have anything to sell? You_ _ **honestly**_ _can't find commercial applications for_ _ **anything**_ _?'_

Damian tilted his head. "What about the microcomputer?"

"Have you _read_ the briefing from Marketing?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow. "The graphics are relatively poor; there's no music player or option to download one; the wireless web connection function still has some bugs; there's no point-and-click input, or touch screen; and most damning of all," Tim's voice acquired a sarcastic tone, "'there is no Android or iPhone compatibility making it impossible to use apps and difficult to use social media. In this day and age, access to such games as Angry Birds and Candy Crush is a must!'" he quoted.

' _Oh, so THAT'S why the coffers are barren. No stupid time-wasting games.'_

Damian frowned. "What is 'Candy Crush'?" he asked.

Jason snorted with laughter. He, Stephanie and Cass had been watching the discussion with great interest (well, with some boredom). If the media ever learned that major decisions regarding Wayne Tech products were made over a school lunch table with naught but determined glares to prevent eavesdropping (of course, glares worked all too well when Jason delivered them), there would be a scandal; but Tim and Damian really knew their stuff. "Why don't you just go over each of those problems and see if you can solve 'em," Jason suggested. Tim and Damian looked over at him, surprised that he was actually getting involved. _'Well there's gratitude…'_ "What? Has it occurred to you that _I_ might want one when you've got it right?" Jason said defensively.

"Fair enough," Tim shrugged. "And good point. The graphics shouldn't be a problem; there's already people working on that. A music player might be a bit more difficult. I mean, adding the circuits should be easy enough, stick in a headphone jack, no problem, but the programme is a bit trickier. I really don't want to put iTunes on it, but I'm not sure what alternatives there are."

' _And there they are, off talking about technical gizmo-y stuff,'_ Jason thought. _'Don't we have better things to do? Like planning raids. Hmm, drug circles have been picking up lately…'_

"Tim?" Stephanie spoke up. "Amazon does this thing where any audio file you bought from them, for iTunes, on a CD, whatever, you can download onto your Kindle. Well, that works with a Fire, at least. Would it be possible to do something similar?"

"Getting permission from Amazon to use that system would not work," Damian said flatly. "Create our own site?"

' _Not good to let druggies get too great a hold. Why haven't I been keeping them in check? I mean, there was the Arkham breakout, and Tim's kidnapping, but since then…'_ Jason thought back to his activity over the recent weeks. _'I haven't been THAT busy with the Swift case, so what…oh. Holly.'_ Identifying the source of his recent distraction, he tuned back into the younger boys' conversation.

"Upload audio files from a PC, or straight purchase from online sites and send them there, then download onto the micro," Tim mused. "Might work. We'll look into it. The web connection issues should be resolved soon; Babs and I had a chat about it over the weekend. The point-and-click I'll get back to. Dami, do you think it is necessary to run apps?"

Damian shrugged. "They are a gimmick," he said. "Some have their uses. Most are time-wasters. I do not even notice their absence from my life. I assume you are of like mind?" He raised an eyebrow, and waited for Tim's nod before continuing. "You have permission to use the micro in your classes partly because of the lack of apps. I would think there would be a market for a device that couldn't be used for such things. It would be popular among employers and grade-conscious parents."

' _Losing me again,'_ Jason thought. _'Pretty Holly. I should see her again soon. I like her, and she needs the money I give her…'_ His thoughts were drawn up short. _'Is that really how I think of her? Funtime on tap? Pay up for a nice time? Is she a charity case or a friend?'_ To distract himself from the unpleasant realisation, he started listening again.

"Mm, it is a lot more professional," Tim agreed. "If we can convince Marketing to advertise it as such, it might work. Okay, then, input mechanism. There's no mouse or cursor pad, and no room to add one. The screen's too small to use it as a touchscreen, you'd never be able to hit a specific point, and touchscreen's are so fragile. Suggestions?"

"Show it to us," Damian requested, and after a little fiddling with the string around his neck securing the gizmo, Stephanie helped Tim release it and set it on the table, opening it up. Damian examined it carefully, then pointed to a small patch of unused space. "Cursor pad there, and mouse buttons at the back?" he suggested.

"The buttons would fit, but the area's too small for a pad," Tim replied. They all crowded around the device. Jason stared it as Stephanie and Cass flipped it over, debating the merits of putting a pad on the bottom. He remembered the handheld game consoles he'd seen when he was younger, and the controls on those.

"A joystick," he said, cutting across Tim's explanation that an exposed pad would be too easily damaged. "Put a joystick in that area Damian pointed out. You could probably make it retractable or something, right?"

Tim and Damian looked at the gadget, then at each other, grinning. "Jay, I think you've got it," Tim said. "A little retro, but…"

"It will work perfectly," Damian agreed. "The slight old-fashionedness should appeal to the nostalgia of older customers, and curiosity of younger ones."

"This is excellent," Tim grinned. "Our Far East plants, the Tokyo one in particular, will be best for developing the joystick and producing the computers. Cass, I reckon you and I should head over there this weekend."

Cass nodded. "We have other fun while there?" she asked.

"How is that excellent?" Stephanie asked.

"By then, the authorities here will have reasonable suspicion of misconduct on behalf of Michael Swift," Damian stated. "You will use your trip to disguise the fact you are passing on the records to the relevant authorities."

"And disguise the fact we _actually_ got records a fortnight ago," Cass shrugged.

"And by going in person, we can apply a few judicious threats as needed," Tim added. "You know, act on this or we tell the papers."

"Santa Claus speech," Jason grinned.

"Why is it always called that?" Damian moaned. "None of the tales of Santa Claus mention threats of disembowelment."

"Know when you're sleeping, know when you're awake," Tim explained. "It does tend to leave an impression."

"I think we can guarantee co-operation," Cass smirked.

"Yup," Tim agreed, just as the bell went.

' _I have got to do something about me and Holly,'_ Jason mused. _'But what?'_


	41. Many Meetings

**Family Ties Chapter 41 Many Meetings**

"Why are you trying to market the micro?" Bruce asked his third son. "I thought you weren't interested in that."

"Damian won't let me develop anything else until we increase revenue," Tim replied, flopping into the chair opposite Bruce's desk. "The micro's the only currently viable option."

Bruce looked at the figures on the financial spreadsheets. B Inc. had been haemorrhaging money; with new suits and equipment needed for Jason and Barbara, general maintenance and upkeep on the caves and such, and the new equipment in development, costs kept building up with next to no return.

"There are other options," Bruce mused aloud. "Wayne Shipping can take over from Swift Transport."

"Might be tricky; we're trying to run their customers out of business. Their major clientele are smugglers, remember?" Tim replied dryly. "Okay, we'll look into other options. But please don't suggest trying to take over Lexcorp. Again."

"We'll have a talk with Lucius," Bruce said. "He'll need to know about the micro anyway."

"If marketing starts harping on about apps again, I'm kicking the head of department in the face," Tim warned grumpily, and Bruce restrained a smirk.

"What do you want to develop now?" he asked. "Improvements on the tracer-comms?"

"Oh, no, I fixed those weeks ago," Tim replied. "Babs and I wrote a new program that should reduce the strain on the internal programming and stop overloading the circuitry. We can start trialling again. No, actually, it's a new security system."

"Better than palm-print scanners?" Bruce asked – Tim had done a lot of work refining that particular piece of tech.

"I can't work them at the moment," Tim growled. "But there's a Canadian company that's developed this system called Nymi. It uses the cardiac rhythm as a password for smartphones and such."

Bruce blinked. "I take it it's secure?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, just one slight flaw." Bruce raised an eyebrow. Tim elaborated. "Nymi uses Bluetooth."

"Which you can hack in about five seconds."

"Six, with the Cray mainframe," Tim corrected. "I have an idea how make it more secure." He got up, but then sat down. "By the way, I was thinking about redesigning and refitting the Secret Annexe…"

* * *

Red Hood thudded to the roof of a building overlooking a row of prestigious jewellers. All was quiet down there, it being notably past opening hours. The roof, however, was already occupied.

"Not that good at sneaking up on me," Catwoman said, not looking back. "Such pretty little things," she sighed.

"You know I have to stop you if you try for them," Red Hood said. "And I wasn't trying to sneak."

"Can I do it if the owners are crooks?" she asked wryly.

He sat down next to her. "I know some drug ring leaders you could bankrupt," he suggested.

She shook her head slightly. "I really don't get your attitude towards drugs," she said.

"It's simple," he shrugged. "I hate 'em, but if you're stupid enough to take 'em, it's your problem. I only really care about the small time pushers when they sell to kids, or start territory wars. It's the suppliers I target."

"I get you," Catwoman nodded. "So, I empty the coffers and you keep 'em from replenishing stocks?"

"Something like that," Red Hood nodded. "But, uh…" he swallows his pride, and turned to the subject he came to discuss. "I need some advice. It's about a girl."

* * *

Jason sat down and nursed his pint. This was not going to be the most pleasant evening, but it was the right thing. And then he could go and beat up some bastard who thought crime paid.

' _Jason, grow up and stop breaking people,'_ his major and minor consciences chorused.

' _Enjoy,'_ the violent demon bird voice smirked.

Another gulp of beer, and Jason contemplated lighting up. Before he could decide, a midnight-haired beauty swept into the room and seized his attention.

As Holly Walker sat down opposite, he smiled sadly. He loved spending time with her; she was witty, funny, opinionated enough to be interesting, but not abrasive – and more, she had perfect decorum and an elegant dance style. She would be a most acceptable alternative to Cass at the balls and galas he had to attend as a Wayne. There was just one snag…

He didn't actually know if she liked him. Sure, she enjoyed their time together, but if it was because of him or his money, he couldn't tell. He was, in a way, taking advantage of her lack of options.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said. "How have you been?"

"Not bad," she said lightly, but her eyes revealed a certain tightness. "And you?"

"Great," he replied, knowing he didn't feel it. "I – well – I found something to help you."

"You shouldn't have," she answered modestly.

"No, Hol, I should have done this weeks ago," he said, taking her hands and pressing a card into them. "This is a foundation for girls like you. They'll help you get a legit job, evening classes for your High School Diploma, even loans for college. You'll be out of this world." He reached up and cupped her face in his hands. "Holly, I adore the time we spend together, but I want a friend, not a sugar baby. It's not fair on either of us."

"I liked it, too," she whispered. "I – I –" She glanced away, unable to explain herself right then.

Jason stood, leaned over and whispered in her ear. "My real name's Jason Todd-Wayne. My number's on the card. Call me if you need anything." And with that, he walked out.


	42. Invasion

**Family Ties Chapter 42 Invasion**

Tim was bored. English was boring; school was boring; sitting in this uncomfortable chair was boring. Even the itch of healing fingers was boring rather than irritating.

Jason, sat at the next desk over, seemed extremely dejected. He'd spent the entire night off-grid, leaving a series of police reports of minor crimes stopped with greater force than was strictly necessary in his wake. From what Tim could read from his brother, Jason had done something he didn't exactly regret, but certainly didn't like either. It had left him in a distinctly sour mood.

Tim refocused on the micro in front of him. He was meant to be working on an essay on the use of juxtaposition in Shakespeare's _Macbeth_ (and what a stupid essay title that was), but instead he was writing up the research proposal to show Bruce and Lucius.

He was jolted out of his work by Jason noticeably stiffening. He glanced over and furrowed his brow. Jason caught the look, deliberately glanced out the window, then to the door, and tensed up. Trouble on the way.

Tim inclined his head, saved and closed the proposal, and started pulling up another program. He'd distributed the upgraded tracer-coms that morning, in the hopes of testing the localized position trackers at lunch with the aid of a map of the school. There were some complaints, but everyone took one.

The map appeared, and Tim quickly input a command. He felt the comm in his pocket buzz as it activated. Five markers appeared on the map, two in one room, three spread out on their own. Tim glanced at Jason, and jerked his head up and down.

Jason stuck his hand in the air. "Miss," he said loudly to attract the teacher's attention. "I think you should know everything is about to go to Hell."

Everyone turned to look at Jason, except Tim, who on a hunch, started hacking the school attendance records.

"And why do you think _that_?" the teacher asked haughtily.

"Because I just saw fourteen heavily armed men in balaclavas enter the building," Jason answered calmly.

Silence fell across the whole room. "School invasion," the teacher whispered. "Everyone, we have to hide; we-"

"I wouldn't recommend that," Tim interrupted without looking up. "Not a typical school invasion, at least not in the way you're thinking. Fourteen of them; can't possibly be a moment of insanity thing, you don't have that many flipping out at once. Could be revenge for hazing; but I'm assuming sixteen plus?" He looked quizzically at Jason, who nodded while subtly gesturing higher. "Plus, of course, start of the year, would have to be people here last year. So, Junior or Senior," Tim continued. "Would have to be from this school; no use shooting someone else's bullies, but according to the roll calls filed less than an hour ago, there are only two Seniors and one Junior absent today. Clearly our intruders are motivated by something other than creating a body count. This is one of Gotham's more exclusive schools, which means they're most likely intending to kidnap a cash cow. Which means we're too valuable to just kill, as long as we don't make it too difficult to keep us under control. Your best bet is to remain calm and co-operative," he concluded, watching Jason's eyes as they silently agreed on their own plan.

"How can you _know_ all that?" the teacher asked shakily.

"Kidnapping gets a bit pedestrian after the first three times," Jason drawled. "So, how was King Duncan's nepotism differing greatly from the standards of the time?" Again, everyone froze at the non-sequitor, Tim merely turning back to the micro as he recognized the attempt to return the classroom to normality.

"I mean, think about it," Jason continued, loud enough to be heard from the corridor. "It was written during the reign of James I, Shakespeare's patron, who became King of Scots while still a toddler. Clearly due to family connection rather than merit. Furthermore, James believed in the Divine Right of –"

The door slammed open, interrupting Jason's monologue. Tim blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, it was almost as though the desk next to him had never been occupied. He refocused on the door.

"Nobody move!" yelled one of the two men who'd burst in.

"Oh, please," Tim snorted, not looking up, trying to hack the cameras. His classmates, thankfully, remained calm and biddable as he'd recommended. "That's the least original phrase ever."

"Suppose you think you're too good for this, huh?" the other man said, advancing to directly in front of Tim's desk while the other started sweeping the room with his rifle.

"You can't kill me; I'm one of the two most valuable hostage possibilities in this room," Tim drawled. "I'm one of the Wayne boys."

"Really? So who do you reckon is as valuable as you?" the man asked mockingly.

"That would be my brother Jason," Tim replied, finally looking up at the barrel pointing between his eyes. "He's just k-o'ed your associate and is standing right behind you about to take you out."

The man scoffed. "How stupid do you think I-"

_Thunk!_

"Why do they always fall for that?" Jason asked, brandishing the rifle he'd just used as a cudgel.

" _Probably because in seven out of ten cases, you can add 'brainless' to 'superstitious' and 'cowardly',_ " Tim muttered under his breath in Romani, switching to private discussion. Jason snorted, but no-one else understood. " _Comm on,_ " Tim instructed, pulling his own out and slipping the specially added elastic loop around his ear with his thumb.

" _You're_ _ **sure**_ _it won't explode in my ear?_ " Jason grumbled.

" _Of course,_ " Tim answered. " _If you're going, go. I'll m-c. Firearms permitted, no fatalities, no collateral. Let's get this done._ "


	43. Action to Out of Action

**Family Ties Chapter 43 Action to Out of Action**

Steph slid the buzzing comm in her ear and waited. She'd been one of the unlucky test subjects to be partially deafened last time they'd tested the high-tech earpieces, but knew they wouldn't be activated during class without reason.

After a moment of silence (on the comm at least; the history teacher was still twittering on about Pearl Harbour), Steph heard Cass breathe into her own device. " _Yes? What emergency?_ "

"No news here," Steph whispered back. "Anyone else?"

" _All clear_ ," Damian answered. " _Todd? Drake?_ "

There was no answer. Steph bit her lip, not daring to draw attention to herself in class. At least, not until she knew what was happening. Several tense minutes passed before Tim's voice came on, speaking Romani. " _ **\- going, go. I'll m-c. Firearms permitted, no fatalities, no collateral. Let's get this done.**_ "

" _ **Ell-bee, this is Bee-gee,**_ " Cass said, using Tim's and her call initials. " _ **Sitrep?**_ "

" _ **Armed intruders in the building,**_ " Tim reported. " _ **Twelve at large. Do not engage until they move on you, then scramble. Ell-wuh currently in action.**_ "

" _ **This is Dee-bee, received and understood,**_ " Damian said, using the initials reflecting his new nickname.

" _ **Ess, received and understood,**_ " Steph acknowledged.

" _ **Bee-gee, received and understood,**_ " Cass finished. The initials used as call signs had been established shortly before the earthquake, which was why Cass was still B-G for Batgirl and Babs O for Oracle. The boys had initialized their nicknames, and as Dick had been getting 'Former Boy Wonder' from Babs a lot at the time, he'd decided that 'eff-bee-double-you' was too long, condensing it to 'eff-bee-wuh'. Jason had used the same 'wuh' with his nickname, Little Wing.

" _ **Ell-wuh,**_ " Jason said. " _ **First floor clear. No intruders. I've jammed the door locks on the classroom doors so the civilians stay put.**_ "

" _ **Good,**_ " Tim said. " _ **Ell-wuh, watch the stairs. Bee-gee, Ess, you clear the ground and second floors as soon as you hear a disturbance. Dee-bee, you'll check the sports facilities. When the main building's clear, Ell-wuh, Bee-gee, secure the Kindergarten block. Dee-bee-**_ "

" _ **I'm engaging,**_ " Cass said, cutting off Tim's instructions. There were a few scuffling sounds, then Cass' voice, in English. " _Why don't we take this outside? Fewer people in the way, fewer bottles of acid to get thrown…_ " A moment, the crash of a slammed door, a few thuds, and Cass was back to Romani. " _ **This is Bee-gee. Two incapacitated. I'm sweeping the Science Wing. Suggest Ell-wuh check ground floor of main block and school management offices. Query, do we have a motive?**_ "

" _ **Do it, and we think money-motivated kidnapping,**_ " Tim started, but at that moment Steph had to refocus. Her teacher was standing directly in front of her.

"Tell me, Miss Brown," the teacher said scathingly. "Seeing as you don't seem to feel the need to pay attention, perhaps you can tell us just what you find so pressing instead?"

Steph pressed her thumb over the microphone on her comm. "I'm sorry, Miss, I must have been drifting there," she said apologetically, trying to concentrate on the whispers in her ear.

The door slammed open with a bang, admitting two street thugs with rifles. They swung the weapons around as they entered the room. "Stephanie Brown?" one asked.

"Who wants to know?" Steph responded, letting her voice carry into the comm as her teacher sputtered.

The same thug pointed his gun directly at her. "Come with us."

"What would you possibly want with me?" Steph asked. "My family's not rich."

"Wayne picks up your tab," the other man said, after a moment clearly needed for thought.

"Okay, good point," Steph agreed, standing and meandering towards the door, deliberately flaunting the curves she knew drove Tim wild. "Coming, boys?" she asked, half-turning back and winking at her would-be captors.

She led the way out, waiting until the door shut behind her before whirling into action. Her foot sprang up, catching the first man on the chin while her elbow smashed backwards. A few more strikes, and both men were laid out, unconscious on the floor. Steph reached up and pulled two lock picks disguised as hair pins from the scrunchie holding up her ponytail. She jammed them into the lock on the history classroom door and twisted them until the lock engaged. " _ **This is Ess,**_ " she muttered into the comm. " _ **Two out, sweeping and securing second floor now, but I don't see anyone.**_ "

" _ **I haven't seen anyone, either,**_ " Jason agreed as Steph kept locking doors.

" _ **Me neither,**_ " added Cass.

" _ **So six of fourteen entered the main building and apparently headed straight for our classrooms?**_ " Tim said doubtfully.

" _ **My pair asked for me by name,**_ " Steph told him.

" _ **But ours didn't seem to know both Ell-wuh and I were there.**_ "

" _ **Yeah, but they were very stupid,**_ " Jason pointed out.

" _ **Right, that's this floor secure,**_ " Steph said.

" _ **Bee-gee, Ell-wuh, is the whole block secure?**_ " Tim queried.

" _ **Yes, I believe so,**_ " said Cass.

" _ **From my end, yup,**_ " confirmed Jason.

" _ **Okay, then,**_ " Tim started, only to be interrupted by Damian in English.

" _Sir, shall I check that noise?_ " he said, and then there was a pause? " _ **Dee-bee, I found the rest,**_ " he reported. " _ **They're in the main sports hall with a class of second graders, and…you'll have to see it.**_ "

" _ **Take 'em out first,**_ " Tim ordered. " _ **Ell-wuh, get to a high vantage point. Shoot once to lure them out. Ess, then you distract them. Bee-gee and Dee-bee, take 'em from behind, or get any that don't come out. Ell-wuh, pick off any you get a clear shot on, but don't give away your proficiency – chest shots, aim for shoulders and thighs. Go.**_ "

Steph ran lightly towards the stairway, scooping up her foes' guns as she passed. Running into Jason as he headed for the roof, she handed him the extra weapons before heading out, some ten metres behind Cass. They all confirmed their positions and waited for Jason's shot. It rang out clearly in the still air, and six men emerged.

"Hey, boys," Steph said, blowing a kiss. "Come and get me." She turned and walked away, letting her hips sway. A glance back showed they'd followed, letting Cass and Damian to pass into the building and take out the remaining pair without being caught by those who emerged. A series of sharp cracks rang out, and Steph hit the ground, rolling and scuttling to-and-fro to minimize the target she presented.

" _ **I shot six,**_ " Jason reported after a moment. " _ **Ess, they out?**_ "

Steph rolled over, and looked back at the half-dozen groaning, wounded men. " _ **Out of action? They certainly look it.**_ "

" _ **Bee-gee reporting, last two down,**_ " Cass said from inside. " _ **Ell-bee, you'll have to come see this.**_ "


	44. Damage Control

**Family Ties Chapter 44 Damage Control**

It transpired that Tim had sent a message to Dick and Babs, telling them to suit up and join them ASAP. Of course, due to the fact they weren't on site, the operation was over before they arrived, but as they got there before the police, they were able to run interference, with just one problem. There was no way to hide the fact six of the men had been shot, and neither of them ever used firearms.

"We'll just have say Red Hood also came," Jason shrugged. "It wouldn't be all that odd for me to take off before the cops arrived, or I got dragged into baby-sitting kiddies."

"Fine," Nightwing sighed. "I assume you've got more than a little data from the guns? Go over it with Batgirl; she'll pass it on. Ah, Tim!"

Steph turned from where she'd been checking the now-unconscious gunmen to see her boyfriend approaching. She internally let out a sigh of relief; with his injured hands, Tim would have significant difficulties defending himself without risking tipping people off as to his other identity. She was just glad he was okay.

"Nightwing," Tim said as he arrived. "Status?"

"You tell me," Nightwing shrugged. "You lot have it all wrapped up."

Tim nodded slowly. "Cass, Steph, bring out the ones you took out," he ordered. Steph nodded and ran back into the building, listening over the comm as Tim outlined the plan. " _We'll say there were ten outside when Nightwing and Batgirl arrived. Jason had just opened fire; he took out six before you two got the other four. Dami, can we attribute the last two to them?..."_ There was a pause, presumably while Damian nodded, before Tim continued. _"Okay, so you then proceeded inside, pulled out the last men and subdued them. Then you called me out, as I contacted you in the first place. Agreed?_ "

Steph arrived on the top floor and grabbed her still sleeping foes, adding her assent as she pulled them down the stairs.

" _Anything we've forgotten?_ " Tim asked.

" _Well, the doors are still locked,_ " Jason reminded him.

" _And…the hall,_ " Damian added, uncharacteristically uncertain.

" _We'll leave the doors until the police arrive,_ " Nightwing said. " _What about the hall?_ "

" _You'll have to see it,_ " Damian said again.

" _Alright. I'll check in on the kids, and have a look,_ " Nightwing decided.

Steph re-joined the group as Nightwing entered the sports building. Jason and Batgirl were still engrossed in their discussion. "I can see one flaw," Steph said. "These guys got knocked out just outside our classrooms, not outside the building."

Tim waited for Cass to reappear and dump her sorry excuse for human beings on the growing pile. "What if we just say that you two ran for it, and they ended up with their colleagues, and if the gunmen protest blame it on amnesia due to blows to the head."

"Might seem awfully convenient," Cass said doubtfully.

"Cops don't like thinking about it, and the men would have to admit to being k-o'ed by civilian girls."

"Not sure whether to be insulted or relieved," Steph muttered. Cass smiled.

Batgirl and Jason re-joined them. "I can see why you call Jason the gun expert," Batgirl commented. "But how can he track ownership and such on guns from when he was dead?"

"Broke into the cave, copied all the files and then researched to fill in the gaps," Jason grinned. "Got a chart somewhere, which ownership marks were used by who when. But the most recent one seems a mixture of Riddler and Cluemaster's marks."

The comms buzzed. " _Batgirl, could you join me? Bring Drake,_ " Nightwing said.

They looked at each other. "Didn't have to be rude," Tim muttered. "Let's go."

Steph frowned, and decided to tag along while Jason, Cass and Damian stayed with the prisoners. She and Tim automatically let Batgirl take point while they stayed on her flanks, a legacy of years of combat and the unspoken acknowledgement of Batgirl's seniority.

They entered the hall, and instantly saw exactly _why_ everyone had been saying it had to be seen. The climbing beams had been pulled away from the walls to allow the men to paint a large blue circle on the ceiling. Inside the circle, not quite in the middle, was a single eye, the outline and pupil a bright yellow. On the floor lay a matching image, except the eye was a milder shade and framed with lashes and the circle was green. Meanwhile, the children were all sat in a small huddle in one corner; their teacher had been knocked out.

"Oh, hell," Tim breathed. "That's what they were up to."

"Any ideas?" Nightwing asked from where he was standing by the huddled children, and the teacher who was unconscious on the floor.

"If you give me more than five seconds, maybe," Tim deadpanned, focusing on the paint.

Nightwing nodded curtly, coming over to have a quick, whispered conversation with Batgirl while Tim went over to examine the crude illustration. Batgirl left, and Nightwing pressed his forensics kit into Steph's hands. "Sample the paints," he instructed, "And anything else he thinks would help."

"Yes, Nightwing," Steph answered formally. She pulled out a small scraper and a series of vials. She bent, spooned some of the still-wet green paint into the first vial, and cleaned the scraper before moving over to the eye. She knelt to take two more samples while Tim crouched to take a closer look. "Do you want me to fingerprint the brushes?" she asked him.

"No point, we already know who used them," Tim answered idly. "But we've seen clues in the form of extra substances slipped into stuff like paint before." He hissed inwardly in irritation. "There's something familiar about the shape of that eye, but I just can't place it."

"I'm sure you'll work it out," Steph shrugged. She finished sampling the paint on the floor and stood, Tim also straightening and plucking his microcomputer off his chest where it still hung from its string around his neck. He flipped it open and started typing.

"Can you get me a close-up of the eye?" he asked, not looking up. Steph sighed and scurried up to climbing beams to complete her tasks.

"Mr Nightwing?" one of the second grade girls piped up from the generally-silent group. "Are you going to break us now?"

Steph glanced down to see Nightwing crouching in front to the girl. "Why would you think that?" he asked.

"Daddy says that's what you do," the girl said.

"Hmm. Well, yes, sometimes we _do_ break people," Nightwing acknowledged. "But only bad boys and girls. Are you a bad girl?"

"No," she replied. "I'm a good girl."

"As long as you remain a good girl, you've nothing to fear from us," Nightwing explained. "We're on your side, and we'll keep you safe. Okay?"

"Okay," the kid accepted.

Steph finished and scrambled down. "Here," she said, showing Tim the photo taken on the small camera kept in the forensics kit.

Tim glanced at it, then the micro. "Nightwing? I've got it," he announced. "'An eye in a blue face, saw an eye in a green face. "That eye is like to this eye," said the first eye, "but in a low place, not a high place."' It means sun on daises."


	45. Temporary Success

**Family Ties Chapter 45 Temporary Success**

The police had finally arrived, and Steph, Jason and Cass had been forced to run around frantically to undo as much of their lock-based sabotage as possible before the bell rang for the change of classes. They'd been doing pretty well, too…until Jason got caught by Principle Forsythe.

"It's standard practise in a hostile situation," Tim was trying to explain. "Limit the number of civilians in the combat zone until your combatants arrive."

"You can use whatever fancy terms you wish, boy," Forsythe growled. "But you lot have gone too far."

"I assure you, _sir_ ," Tim said bitingly, and Steph noticed a certain look in his eyes, that he was getting close to switching over to Red Robin. Steph caught and held his gaze, twitching her fingers with commands to calm and focus. She was rewarded by Tim closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before continuing. "We were only acting in the best interests of the safety of the other children," he said, somewhat calmer. "We do have some experience at this."

Forsythe drew himself up pompously. "Regardless, that was not your decision to make."

"So the school takes full responsibility for our security?" Tim asked quickly, and Steph could see the slightest smirk that said Forsythe had fallen into a verbal trap. "If that's the case," he continued, "then you can expect five lawsuits for accessory to attempted kidnapping – your mom wouldn't mind us doing one for you, would she, Steph? – and let's not forget that unpleasantness a few weeks ago. That's one count of accessory to actual kidnapping and, what, ten counts of accessory to grievous bodily harm?"

Forsythe spluttered indignantly. Steph raised an eyebrow at the blatant blackmail, or 'aggressive negotiation' as Tim preferred to call it.

"On the other hand," Tim continued. "We do attract a lot of trouble. So, why don't you let us take care of ourselves, and we won't blame you for anything that goes wrong?"

The Principle stared incredulously, before his countenance acquired a calculating, then a sullen cast. "I won't shield you from the police," Forsythe growled. "And don't think you have free reign."

"Of course not," Tim accepted.

Forsythe nodded. "I'll be talking to Mr Wayne about this," he grumbled, heading off to the sports hall, leaving Steph, Tim, Cass, Jason, Damian and Batgirl with the cops busy reading the prisoners their rights. After a moment, Nightwing joined them, freed from supervising the second-graders.

"You have a location for us yet, Tim?" he asked softly.

"No," Tim sighed, pulling out his micro again. "The connection to the mainframe keeps malfunctioning. It's just taking time."

Steph bit her lip as she remembered something. "Uh, Tim? You said it was really obvious what the clue was. Call me a halfwit, but-"

"You're a halfwit," Jason, Damian and Nightwing chorused.

Steph glared at each boy in turn. Batgirl cuffed Nightwing around the head. Tim looked up and fixed Nightwing with a firm stare. "Keep that up, and I'll do a botch job next time you bring your grapple to me for servicing," he muttered, sliding his focus over to Jason and Damian, including them in the threat.

"As I was saying," Steph growled. "What was so obvious?"

"The camera?" Tim requested, and Nightwing pulled it out as Tim fiddled with his micro some more. "Here." He showed them two pictures of eyes, one from the sports hall, and one…

"Isn't that the eye of Sauron?" Jason asked. "From _Lord of the Rings_?"

"Exactly. And the eyes these men drew match it," Tim explained. "And you know _The Hobbit_? _Lord of the Rings_ ' prequel? It's got a whole chapter about a game of riddles."

"Including one about sun on daises," Steph nodded. "Yeah, that's fairly obvious."

"I know," Tim grumbled.

"Hey, you lot," one of the cops said, coming over. Steph didn't recognize any of the police that had been dispatched, but they seemed courteous enough. "I suppose you have a theory about who's behind this already," the cop said.

"Riddler and Cluemaster," Batgirl announced. She tossed over the rifle she'd kept hold of for this purpose. "The most recent marking on that is a combination of Cluemaster's and Riddler's possessive marks. Besides, they're the ones most likely to break into a school in order to redecorate. This particular firearm came into Gotham shortly before the quake, imported by Penguin. It's been passed through the hands of various gangs and most recently was part of a batch of half a dozen that went missing when the GCPD seized Two-Face's cache. Wouldn't be surprised to find the rest with your prisoners."

"Right," the cop said. "I'll pass it on."

"No problem," Nightwing smiled, then straightened almost imperceptibly, hand going to his ear. "B?" he said, before switching to Romani. " _You took your sweet time getting your comm on._ "

Steph quickly tapped her own comm, switching on the link. As she did so, she saw the others doing the same, even Tim, albeit clumsily, and the cop leaving them. " _ **-report**_ ," Bruce was saying.

" _LB called in an invasion,_ " Nightwing started, his voice forming a double echo. " _He summoned myself and O, and mobilised LW, BG, S and DB to secure the vicinity. We arrived before the GCPD, and so have avoided compromising ourselves. The invasion was ordered by Riddler and Cluemaster; they left us clues to a riddle with the answer 'sun on daises'. We have yet to determine the indicated location._ "

" _ **Return to the cave, do the research there**_ ," Bruce ordered. " _ **LB, stay on comms in case your assistance is needed. S, be prepared to be called; we may need any additional insight you can provide**_."

" _Yes, sir,_ " Tim acknowledged. " _You should be aware that the attack was apparently targeted at us. Men entered the class LW and I were in, as well as that of BG and S, but no other. Those sent after S asked for her by name, citing her sponsor as the reason, but the others didn't seem to know who they were looking for. I surmise S was the primary target, and the others were to keep the rest of us contained while the clue was left._ "

" _ **Understood**_ ," Bruce growled. " _ **Get back to class**_."

"Sir," Steph replied, hearing Tim, Jason, Damian and Cass echo it. She pulled the comm out of her ear, switched it off and pocketed it. "At least those didn't explode this time," she commented.

"Worked quite well," Tim agreed. "But I've got this idea for implants…"

"No," Damian insisted. "Not until you stop blowing the R&D budget."

"You're no fun."

* * *


	46. Sun 'n' Daises

**Family Ties Chapter 46 Sun 'n' Daises**

Steph entered the cafeteria a little apart from her classmates. It seemed being kidnapped from class, and then hanging around a pair of vigilantes, tended to confuse your social status a little. With luck it would settle down soon, but…it wasn't like she could _relate_ to the other girls anyway. She had slightly different priorities than what hairstyle the boyfriend would most like ( a nice, practical ponytail for her; Tim didn't care) or whether or not the teachers would be more likely to notice baby blue or lavender nail polish (like she had _time_ for a manicure every week). So being shunned wasn't that much of a loss.

She grabbed her food and headed for the usual table. The boys were already there, and she slid into the seat opposite Tim. "Hey guys, what's-" she started.

Jason shushed her, and she noticed that they were all wearing their earpieces. Cottoning on, she activated and inserted her own. " _-heading off now,_ " Nightwing was saying.

Tim glanced around, and Steph followed his gaze until she saw Cass making eye contact across the hall. Tim gestured to his ear, and waited until she'd slipped her comm in before speaking. "Nightwing, update report please."

" _Sure,_ " the eldest Wayne boy replied. " _We fed 'sun' and 'daises' into the computer; got about thirty plausible hits_. _I called Gordon and Batgirl got cameras on them. We just spotted hostile activity at the Sun 'n' Daises Daycare Centre. On route now._ "

"Do you require co-ordination?" Tim asked.

" _We checked out the plans for all possible locations while waiting,_ " Batgirl answered. " _Thanks, but I think we've got it covered._ "

"Keep us informed, and let me know if you change your mind," Tim said as Cass sat down next to him. He looked over at her. "Um, my anti-inflammatories are in my inside pocket," he muttered. "Could you…?"

"Sure," Cass said, reaching into her brother's jacket. "Stop being embarrassed."

"I don't like being so dependent on any of you," Tim grumbled, swallowing the pill Cass put on his palm and taking a drink from the bottle of water someone (probably Jason) had opened and stuck a straw in. "Not that I don't trust you," he clarified. "It's just…"

"You don't like not being able to do all those little things," Steph nodded, understanding. It was a conversation they'd all had several times before.

" _Arrived on scene,_ " Nightwing's voice crackled over the comm. " _Batgirl, around the back. Pincer movement._ "

" _On it,_ " Batgirl answered.

The table fell silent (as much as possible in a crowded cafeteria), as they listened to the scuffle. Although without visual or knowledge of the location they were limited in what they could perceive, this was something that had come under Bruce's extensive training. From the sounds they could hear, Nightwing charged in the front, catching the baddies' attention and taking out a portion of the hostiles at once. The hostiles grabbed hostages, and Nightwing stalled until Batgirl came up from behind and got them with sedative tipped darts. No children were hurt, but several of the child minders were injured, two seriously, before they arrived. Nightwing and Batgirl were unharmed, as usual, but left babysitting until the emergency services arrived.

" _We interrupted the…decorating,_ " Nightwing reported. " _It's a scene on the wall. There's a red…blob at the bottom. Possibly a mound of some sort. Above it are some white things. I think they're horses; they look like the old Celtic white horses carved in chalk. Got anything on that?_ "

"Think so," Tim murmured. "'Thirty white horses on a red hill, first they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still.' It means teeth."

" _Might fit,_ " Batgirl mused. " _So…teeth._ "

"A dentist, maybe?" Tim suggested. "Name might have something to do with horses?"

" _That's an awful lot of possibilities,_ " Nightwing winced.

Steph frowned. Something was niggling her. "Is the daycare centre called 'Sun- _on_ -Daises' or 'Sun- _'n'_ -Daises'?"

"' _Sun-'n'-Daises', ''n'' short for 'and',_ " Nightwing confirmed.

"I used to go there when I was little," Steph whispered, remembering vaguely, when she was much younger, and her mom had to send her to daycare while she worked.

"Do you think it's a coincidence?" Tim asked.

"I dunno," Steph answered, shaking her head. "Maybe, maybe not."

" _S, can you give us a list of all dentists you've used?_ " Batgirl asked.

"Sorry, but I just don't know," Steph sighed. Her family had tried a number of different practises to find the right one. "Mom would know, but I don't."

" _Would she mind us paying a call?_ " Nightwing asked.

"While she's at work, yes," Steph said dryly.

" _We'll dig through the medical records, then,_ " Nightwing sighed.

"Have you started on the paint samples?" Cass asked.

" _Set it running, but no results before we left,_ " Batgirl answered.

" _I hear sirens, we're switching off now,_ " Nightwing reported. The line went dead.

"What are you thinking?" Jason asked, watching Tim's inscrutable features.

"Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is enemy action," Tim mused. "The first strike, here, could have been specifically targeted to get B Inc involved asap. The second, could be coincidence. It's possible. But remember the unusual pattern we noticed the hostiles exhibiting earlier, them asking for Steph by name but not us? That points to enemy action."

"If we focus on that, and are incorrect, we may miss the real target," Damian cautioned.

"True," Tim nodded. "But these guys have a compulsion to leave sufficient clues for us to trace them. I _suspect_ that this pattern is part of it."

"Great," Steph grumbled. "Not only is my father an Arkham-certified loon, and a C-lister at that, but he's also making my life his clue trail."

"Could be worse," Cass said, lips twitching slightly. "He could have maimed one of us."

Jason and Damian guffawed. Tim sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you, Cass?" he griped. "It's not your fault. Either of you girls. You are not your fathers."

"So you surmise they will send us through all the riddles in Tolkien's book and give us a summary of Brown's life before we reach the final target?" Damian asked.

Tim frowned. "Not necessarily. But I'd like to discuss it with B and O first."

"Are you lot going to class or not?" a shout interrupted. A quick glance around showed an empty cafeteria.

"I'm keeping the comm in," Steph said as they all stood. "Later, guys."


	47. Long Afternoons

**Family Ties Chapter 47 Long Afternoons**

It had been a long, nervous afternoon for Steph, listening to the comm traffic - mostly consisting of Dick and Babs going through data (which, once they had cameras watching possible targets, was mostly progress on the Swift Transport case) and, between classes, one of the boys or Cass chipping in with a witticism or quick suggestion.

Then back home. Mom was still at work, but had given her firm instructions that there should be _no more_ sneaking off to Wayne Manor after school. At least not for a few more weeks. But that didn't mean she had nothing to do; Spanish translation, a dozen math problems, notes for an English essay due next week and the next chapter in her Russian textbook hidden behind the Twilight Saga. Plus her laptop, while disguised as a simple gift from her doting boyfriend, was very high-tech and could connect with the Cray Mainframe in the Batcave, allowing her to watch the progress being made.

She opened up the program and waited for the connection to establish, pulling out her math books as she did so. As the screen split into four sections, one for each screen in the cave currently active, a babble of voices filled her bedroom - at least two simultaneous conversations. After a moment, Tim cut across the others. " _Steph's on now. Hey, babe._ "

"Hey," she answered. "Anything I can do from here?"

" _Not much to be done,_ " Babs replied. " _But stay live just in case._ "

" _When can you get out?_ " Dick asked.

"Probably not until eight at the earliest," she said. "I can see eighteen cameras, but what's on the other screen?"

" _Analysis on the paint samples,_ " Tim explained. " _See, we think that-_ "

" _-it's not about the riddles,_ " Babs continued. " _They're a wild goose chase-_ "

" _-while the real clue is in the paint,_ " Tim finished.

"So there'll be a large assault later, or just more small ones?" Steph asked.

" _I'm proposing we limit our reactionary response,_ " Tim answered. " _And when we have the final location, we have a major assault, while still maintaining a small reactionary team._ "

"Have you decided who you recommend for the reactionary action?"

There was a pause before Tim answered. " _I thought perhaps Batman and Robin._ "

" _I'd have thought Batgirl and I,_ " Dick said.

" _Maximum distraction impact,_ " Tim disagreed. " _Maybe you as B, though._ "

" _You want us as a_ _ **distraction**_ _?_ " Damian queried.

" _Nigma probably has some way of monitoring what his men are doing. It's B he's obsessed with outwitting. Robin is a good match with him, especially for a stealth assault._ " Tim paused before continuing. " _And I do like the traditionalism of it._ "

" _Of course you do,_ " Jason said. " _What's the valence shell again?_ "

" _The reason you need to pay attention in Chemistry,_ " Tim grumbled.

" _You lot just focus on your homework for now,_ " Dick suggested. " _We can argue about this when B arrives._ "

" _Don't you have a test tomorrow?_ " Damian asked snidely.

" _The day I can't identify all types of organic matter used for suspect ID and commonly recovered from crime scenes is the day B puts me out to pasture._ "

"If only all our studies were that easy," Steph quipped.

* * *

" _There. That camera!"_

" _I see them. Batgirl, with me?"_

" _No! Nightwing, take Red Hood and Black Bat."_

" _What? But-"_

" _Babs, your father will be expecting you to be home soon."_

" _I – right. I'll just get the building's plans."_

" _Suit up, you two. Hurry."_

" _Steph, do you recognize this place?"_

"Busy Teeth Dental Practise? Yeah, a bit."

" _It's on the corner of Redmond Street and White Horse Lane."_

" _Ticks the boxes, then. You're right, I should go. See you later, love."_

" _Bye, gorgeous. Jason, hurry up! How long does it take to pull on a jacket?"_

" _I'm coming! Forgot to top up my mask glue last night, 'sall."_

" _We going now?"_

" _Yeah. Tim, feed us a plan as we go."_

" _On it. Dami, zoom in there…okay. There's a decent sized parking lot outside. Try and draw them out. Red Hood, potshots. Nightwing, Black Bat, one of you take them from behind as they come out, one take any that remain inside."_

" _Black Bat, go in. I'll stay out. There a good perch for Hood?"_

" _Yeah, there's a-"_

"Stephanie, I'm home! Come help me start dinner!"

" _-should give him a good spot."_

"Guys, I have to go, Mom's home."

" _Of course. Comm us when you're suiting up, someone'll get you."_

"Stephanie!"

"Coming, Mom! Bye, Tim."

* * *

A feigned headache after the stress of the day sent Steph to 'bed' early. Her mom had already heard that there had been trouble at Gotham Academy, and probably would have been serious in her threats of withdrawal if it weren't for their lack of options. Steph, like Tim and Cass, had been expelled from her old school nearly six months ago for repeatedly skipping class. It was largely Bruce's influence (and money) that had given her a place at the Academy, helped along by her excellent test scores.

She put her comm in her ear and called the cave as she stripped off her jeans and shirt and shimmied into the sleek shirt and pants of her costume. Her hair was pinned in a loose bun at the nape of her neck as she fastened her cape and pulled on boots, gloves, belt and the extra holster around her left thigh. Her facemask was stuck to various points around her face and then clipped to the inside of her hood.

She slipped out of her window, making sure the hem of her cape was out before closing it behind her. Once she'd forgotten, and had ended up hanging off her windowsill by the cape and had spent some minutes scrambling around for purchase before unfastening the cape and trying again.

She pulled out her grapple and shot to the roof of the opposite apartment block and waited. After a minute, Red Hood pulled up on his bike. Spoiler jumped, flaring her cape to slow her descent, and landed next to him, mounting the bike behind him.

"We've pinned down the base," Red Hood told her as he zoomed off. "Gotta prepare for the result."


	48. Preparation, Computers...Fish

**amily Ties Chapter 48 Preparation, Computers…Fish**

The Watchtower's teleport hummed and a black figure stepped off – black outfit, black hair, black domino mask with flared ends. Booster Gold, on monitor duty, came through into the room to see who came. "Hey! Uh, Red Robin?" he said. "You're looking…dark."

"I was in a hurry," Tim shrugged. "Is Skeets around?"

"He's watching the screens," Booster said. "Why?"

"I could do with his help," Tim admitted, hurrying towards the monitor room.

"Seriously? That's new," Booster mused.

"We've got a major operation that needs mission control, I'm the only one not in the field, and I have broken fingers," Tim snapped.

"Red Robin, sir, how can I provide assistance?" Skeets, Booster's robotic companion from the future, chirped as they entered.

"Can you act as an interface between me and the computer?" Tim asked, sliding into the chair at the secondary computer bank.

"If Booster can manage without me," Skeets agreed.

"Yeah, go on," Booster allowed, returning to his own duty.

"Thank you," Tim said. "Skeets, activate protocol beta-alpha-tau."

"I am not familiar with that protocol," Skeets protested.

"The computer is," Tim said. "Just input the command." Skeets buzzed, and the computer screen threw up a snowstorm, before beeping. "Authorization gamma-rho-rho," Tim said clearly. The screens morphed into a replica of the Batcomputer. Plans flickered up, and Tim depressed the switch on the comm nestling in his ear.

* * *

" _-this factory was the only one manufacturing that particular blend of resin, but it closed after the quake. It's been abandoned since. Records show most of the equipment was stripped out and repurposed. We need more recent data to formulate a strategy._ " Tim finished his preliminary briefing over the comm line from the Watchtower; Steph had arrived just in time for a quick hug before he had departed, leaving her strangely lonely. " _Batman and Robin are distracting Riddler – where are they now, by the way?_ " Tim continued.

"Working on 'time'," Nightwing supplied. "They're staking out the old Clocktower."

The Clocktower had become a moderately important location during No Man's Land, particularly after Bat territory joined Blue Boy territory. It had been something of an open secret that Babs stayed there, and with Steph and Cass being her favourite runners, it had become the informal home base of the Wayne group – which proved useful when the crisis was over and the question of Cass's future came up.

Unfortunately, the Clocktower was destroyed during the gang war that had almost resulted in Steph's death. The rubble had been cleared, but there was just an empty plot now.

" _Not much there, but they know what they're doing,_ " Tim said, and Steph could practically hear him shrug. " _Has Batgirl returned yet?_ "

"No, she's still-" Nightwing started.

" _I'm two minutes out,_ " Batgirl interrupted. " _I'm listening._ "

" _Okay. You five head out to the warehouse. Nightwing, north; Batgirl, east; Black Bat, south; Spoiler, west; Red Hood, lookout. Give me details of every possible breach point, and anything you can see inside._ "

"Understood," Nightwing confirmed. "Vehicles, equipment?"

" _You and Spoiler take one of the Batmobiles,_ " Tim suggested. " _The others, bikes. There's the extra supplies in the vehicles; don't worry about anything else._ "

"Go back and grab it if we need it?" Red Hood asked.

" _Got it,_ " Tim confirmed. " _Batgirl, how close?_ "

" _Just here now,_ " Batgirl said, and Steph saw the bike zoom in. "Blunted my 'rangs earlier, just give me a minute," she called, crossing over to one of the storage cabinets.

" _Do me a favour, someone, and make a note to have them serviced,_ " Tim muttered, and Nightwing scribbled on a Post-it note he then stuck to the wall just behind the screen, along with a few others containing suggestions to update the all-purpose antidote, make more motion-sensitive alarms for the sewers and other bits of non-urgent general business.

"Right, I'm ready," Batgirl said. "Everyone?"

"Set," Steph nodded. Black Bat and Red Hood agreed.

"Let's go," Nightwing said, and led the way to the Batmobile. Steph followed, refixing her hood and mask in place. She slid into the passenger seat, and watched Nightwing ease the powerful vehicle through the tunnels to the open road.

" _Spoiler,_ " Batman growled over the comm. " _What's your favourite fish restaurant?_ "

There was near silence for a moment, then Red Hood let out a choked laugh. " _What was that?_ " he asked

" _Fish restaurant,_ " B repeated. " _It's the riddle. Fish._ "

"I haven't really eaten fish for a while," Spoiler replied. "Not since a dose of food poisoning after…oh. Bad bit of salmon at this place called the Angler."

" _Get the address,_ " B instructed.

" _Working on it,_ " Tim said, and whispered some instructions to Skeets. " _By the way, just so you know, Booster Gold can hear you…_ "

" _Just get the address._ " B did _not_ sound happy about the potentially embarrassing communications getting spread through the League.

" _Right, let's see…hmm. When was that food poisoning?_ " Tim asked.

"Six years ago, I think," Spoiler frowned.

" _Search farther back…same parameters, different time frame…hmm, interesting._ "

"What have you got?" Nightwing asked curiously.

" _Closed after the quake, no surprise,_ " Tim reported. " _Now one of Penguin's less prestigious Iceberg Lounges._ "

" _Excellent,_ " Robin said. " _We get some action as well._ "

" _I know the place,_ " B sighed. " _Be careful._ "

"We will," Nightwing rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Spoiler, we're here."

Spoiler hopped out and lightly ran around to her side of the building. She gave it a quick glance and whistled. "Red Robin? I'll have to check, but it looks like the building's sealed. Boarded windows, no vents."

" _Same here,_ " agreed Nightwing.

" _And here,_ " said Black Bat.

" _Front entrance is unblocked, but…_ " Batgirl reported.

There was a pause. " _Think it's a trap?_ " asked Red Hood dryly.


	49. Light and Darkness

**Family Ties Chapter 49 Light and Darkness**

" _Batgirl, use the computers in the Batmobile to hack whatever cameras there are. Black Bat, try to find or create an alternative breach point. Nightwing, Red Hood, Spoiler, prepare for frontal assault._ "

Tim's voice came over the comm, outlining his plan. Spoiler frowned, briefly wondering why she and Red Hood, known to be the most impulsive (not a bad trait in itself, but something worth watching), had both been assigned to spring the trap. Probably to keep them from getting too wound up listening from outside and going to the rescue prematurely. It was such a little thing to take into consideration, but marked the difference between a good mission controller and an adequate one. B insisted on the best.

They re-congregated around the Batmobile, and Black Bat paused just long enough to grab a small crowbar and some extra explosives before returning to the factory. Batgirl slid into the passenger seat and lit up the computer. Her fingers danced across the controls, teeth absently worrying her lower lip.

"It's not easy," Batgirl grumbled. "Black Bat, have you found anything with wires we can splice?"

" _I will check,_ " Black Bat replied. Nightwing dug out a small kit with the necessary tools and materials for splicing and chucked it to Red Hood.

"Run that down to her," he instructed, and the more murder-prone vigilante pointed his helmet at him in a glare-y sort of way before leaving.

After a minute, Red Hood returned, and Batgirl finally succeeded in getting into the system. "Okay, I've got cameras," she said.

" _Can you work out which room leads to which?_ " Tim asked.

"Uh…" Batgirl scanned the rows of images. "Nope, sorry."

Some of the screens switched over to long lines of code. " _I've got the door locks,_ " Tim said. " _Looks like some of them are tied to light sensors. And that one to some weight sensors, and that one-_ "

"Can you over-ride them?" Nightwing interrupted.

" _Hmm. Yes. Give me a week and it's done._ "

"We don't have a week."

" _Old fashioned way, then. Run the gauntlet._ "

"I'd hoped we could avoid that."

" _I know; me too. But the other option is to smash down the factory._ "

"Yeah, so let's run the gauntlet," Nightwing agreed. "Anything we should grab?"

" _Get some flares, but other than that, travel light,_ " Tim counselled. " _Even with the cameras I can't see too well. It's dark and the night vision's terrible. Actually, take a lantern as well. See if that helps._ "

"Right," Nightwing said. "Red Hood, make sure you've got enough ammunition. Get some live rounds as well, just in case." He cracked open the Batmobile's trunk and passed Spoiler some flares, which she tucked into her belt. He pulled out a small powerful lantern and clipped it to his own belt. That particular piece of equipment would provide light three-sixty degrees around, and would provide good light for everyone without confining the light to a mono-directional beam like a flashlight would.

"Do we have a plan?" Red Hood asked, checking his guns.

"Go in, try to work out the confusingly fiddly devices to open each door, hope there aren't too many concealed death traps, hope Batgirl and Black Bat can work out a way around the traps," Nightwing shrugged. "What can you give us, Red Robin?

" _I can probably work out the trigger for each door when you come to it,_ " Tim offered.

"I'm taking a few kilos of plastic explosives," Red Hood announced.

Nightwing's mask shifted slightly as he rolled his eyes. "Don't weigh yourself down too much," he sighed. "You want anything, Spoiler?"

Spoiler frowned, running through all the gear already in her belts. They were well-prepared enough that there wasn't really much else to bring. In fact, most of what they didn't have was either too bulky to conveniently transport or dangerous enough to generally be fatal. "I'll just grab some spares," she decided, finding an extra storage pouch and filling it with smoke pellets, batarangs and a spare staff. She clipped it to the back of her belt and let her cape fall back into place.

"Let's go then," Nightwing said, starting off towards the factory, Spoiler and Red Hood flanking him. As they approached, Spoiler glanced around and caught half a shadow where Black Bat was keeping watch. She twitched her head downwards in acknowledgement, and was rewarded by the shadow retreating slightly. Nightwing cast a glance towards his sister, then to Spoiler and Red Hood. "Weapons out," he murmured, and Spoiler flicked out her staff while Red Hood sprouted his handguns, and Nightwing raised one escrima stick to eye level as he opened the door.

There was stillness, and darkness. "Can you see anything?" Nightwing whispered.

" _I can tell which room it is,_ " Tim replied. " _It seems to be empty._ "

"Alright." Nightwing gestured, and advanced, the other two close on his heels. Spoiler just had time to sweep her cape over the threshold before the door shut with a snap behind them, plunging them into darkness.

Nightwing switched the lantern on, throwing shadows around the small room. Directly opposite them was what looked like a clock with no hands. The next door was at 90 degrees to the right. "Can you unlock it?" Nightwing asked.

" _Nope,_ " Tim replied. " _It's tied to a light sensor. Let's see…gimme those signals…okay. There's a light of some sort in there, can't quite tell what it's tied to. That clock?_ "

Red Hood crouched by the broken device. "Look at these rods," he said, holding a handful up. "Hands? Reckon we have to set it to the right time?"

"What time would _that_ be?" Spoiler asked, frowning.

" _Put them on and I'll see if I can work it out,_ " Tim offered. " _It's got roman numerals, so I'm guessing you'll want the more ornate hands._ "

"Right," Nightwing said, and he and Red Hood rifled through the collection of hands, selecting three of various lengths and thicknesses. They slotted them on the clock face and waited.

" _Nothing,_ " Tim grumbled. " _It's like it's not eve registering them…Wait. What if we're on the wrong track? Maybe there's something else we should look at. A riddle, a saying…Something like 'time flies'?_ "

"Are there any shaped like arrows?" Spoiler asked.

"No, but…" Nightwing started. "Many hands," he murmured, and started stacking the little rods on the centre axel. A light shot out and illuminated Spoiler's shoulder. She stepped aside, and the light hit the wall. The door opened. "Makes light work," Nightwing finished.

"Well, that wasn't too hard," Spoiler said, and a sudden sense of foreboding crept over her.


	50. Running the Gauntlet

**Family Ties Chapter 50 Running the Gauntlet**

" _Believe it or not, that door isn't locked._ "

Spoiler looked at the door. It opened outwards, or would, if it was released. "The chain is a fair indication that it is," she said, looking at the chain that stretched tight from the door to the opposite wall.

" _Perhaps I should rephrase that. The door has no electronic lock._ "

"Good to know," Nightwing commented, giving the chain an experimental tug with his free hand. "Think there's some trick, or do we just pull really hard? We probably should check before we just cut through it."

" _Assuming there's a pattern to the locks, we probably have to find some old proverb and apply it,_ " Tim suggested. " _I just can't think of anything relevant…_ "

"A chain is only as strong as its weakest link," Red Hood declared. "Good principle to remember when taking on drug dealers. The 'chain' of supplier to dealer to user and so on."

" _What's the chain made off?_ " Tim asked.

Nightwing brought the lantern closer to the chain. "This link's steel, I think," he said. "Chrome, is that _gold_?, Kevlar weave…"

"One of them must be 'weak'," Spoiler deduced, starting at the other end, examining links in the dim light. "Mostly metal, but maybe one's a brittle plastic? Hang on, this one looks like wood."

"That's something we can cut," Nightwing said, shining the lantern on it.

"Let me," Red Hood said. He pulled his cigarette lighter from inside his jacket and flicked it on underneath the wooden link. It started smoking, then caught fire. A moment later, the chain fell to the ground. "And you said smoking was bad," Red Hood gloated.

"It is," Nightwing retorted. "Okay, so the lighter is useful, but-"

"Time and place, guys," Spoiler sighed, pushing the door open and stepping through. The next room was just as dark, and Nightwing's lantern highlighted the next door along with, mounted on one wall, a number of containers that looked almost like baskets. On the floor were a number of round objects that looked like… "Eggs?" Spoiler asked, picking one up.

" _Don't put them all in one basket,_ " Tim chuckled. " _Erm, right. There's weight sensors in all four of those baskets._ "

"Can you tell when each one has enough weight to unlock the door?" Nightwing asked, crouching to start gathering eggs.

" _Should be able to,_ " Tim agreed. " _Try it out._ "

As before, it was simple enough to open the door; a few minutes of piling eggs into baskets and it unlocked easily enough. They piled into the next room, which was as dark as the others, which was just plain irritating, but…

"What do we do here?" Red Hood asked.

" _I don't know. The signals are confusing,_ " Tim said grouchily. " _Shoulder charge the door, why don't you?_ "

"If you think it will work," Red Hood shrugged, charging the door.

And bouncing off it. "Fuck," he groaned. "Why did you think that would work?"

" _I didn't; I was being flippant,_ " Tim sighed. " _But it did give me some interesting signals to look at._ "

"I'm so happy for you," Red Hood said sarcastically, standing and massaging his shoulder. "Ow. Fuck, that hurts."

" _Yeah, strange as it might sound, we were_ _ **almost**_ _on the right track,_ " Tim remarked. " _When you put a large amount of pressure on the door, you triggered the release mechanism. It checked a heat sensor, then stayed sealed._ "

"Heat sensor?" Nightwing echoed, and Spoiler shrugged. She hadn't seen anything, but with how dark it was, that wasn't surprising. Must be the reason for the lack of lighting; to make it just that little bit harder. Nightwing sighed. "Just have a hunt around," he muttered.

Spoiler nodded and started scanning the walls. After a few minutes, Nightwing called out. "Have a look at this."

They came over, Red Hood holding one arm stiffly. "Is that…an old-fashioned iron?" he asked.

" _Skeets, run a Google search for 'proverb', 'iron' and 'heat',_ " Tim sighed. " _Any obvious ways of changing the temperature of it?_ "

"Check in the corners, see if there's a disposable barbeque or something," Nightwing said tiredly.

Spoiler looked around and soon found… "Hot plate?"

" _You've got to strike while the iron is hot,_ " Tim informed them.

"Bring that here," Nightwing instructed. He pulled the iron off the wall, dropped it on the hot plate and turned it on. It took some time (and one intense game of I Spy) but eventually the iron was warm to the touch. Nightwing returned it to the sensor, Red Hood attacked the door, and they progressed.

" _I see you now,_ " Tim commented. " _Another light sensor. It's coded to a particular wavelength – oh, interesting._ "

As they crossed the threshold, the door closed behind them, and a murky light shone forth. "Uh, the door isn't opening…" Spoiler noted hesitantly.

" _Wrong intensity,_ " Tim said. " _Can you clean it up?_ "

"The light's going through this tank," Nightwing reported. He put down the lantern and tried to remove the tank. "Can't get rid of it. It's full of floating things…uh…" He stuck a batarang in and fished out one of the objects. "Miniature chef's hat."

" _What's the suspension media?_ " Tim asked, and Spoiler wondered why he had to use the technical term and couldn't just call it 'fluid'.

Nightwing dipped a finger in the liquid and stuck it in his mouth. "Salty," he said deadpan.

"What if it was poison?" Red Hood asked mildly.

"I do keep my immunities up to date," Nightwing asked. "And it couldn't be anything corrosive; those are just plastic film covered paper. The distinct odour of chicken was also a clue."

" _Get those hats out,_ " Tim instructed. " _Too many cooks spoil the broth._ "

"You sound so wise," Spoiler said sardonically, helping to fish out the hats.

As the 'broth' cleared, the light increased in intensity. The lock clicked.

The next room was plain. " _There's no lock on that door,_ " Tim cautioned. " _Nothing holding it closed either. When you go on, use stratagem iota-seven-seven._ "

Spoiler looked at Nightwing, who nodded in concurrence. The stratagems were haphazardly designated on purpose; for example, 'jump on criminal', which most would suspect would be alpha-one-one, was actually omicron-six-four. Iota-seven-seven was a particular variant on 'distract and strike'.

Nightwing surreptitiously rested on hand on his belt, letting his compatriots reach for their own gear. He covertly tapped three fingers against his leg, then two. And opened the door.


	51. Outside, Interference

**Family Ties Chapter 51 Outside, Interference**

Tim had two commlines open, but had adjusted it so that he could hear both. Nightwing and co.'s line couldn't hear the other, while the older girls could hear both. He wasn't exactly comfortable with that, but as he could just about hear his own voice through the hacked camera feed, he preferred to keep the girls' movements confidential.

" _Located breach point,_ " Black Bat reported.

Tim thumbed the mike on his comm to the private line. "Make an entry point and see what's in there," he instructed. "Do _not_ be seen."

" _On it,_ " she answered, with an audible eye roll.

" _And you said smoking was bad,_ " Red Hood said on the other line, and Tim refocused his attention.

* * *

Batgirl stayed in the 'mobile, watching the continuing progress through the factory. She could tell Tim had set up separate comms; she could hear some of his voice on the surveillance they'd spliced into, although she couldn't make out the words.

" _You'll have to see this,_ " Black Bat said slowly.

"Get pictures," Batgirl asked. "We can see them here and plan a strategy."

There was a pause. " _Yes, do that,_ " Tim agreed, then returned to reading out weight signals for the other group.

Batgirl watched her comrades open the door and proceed, and heard a rustle from Black Bat announcing her return. They watched Red Hood bounce off the next door, and winced. "Gotta hurt," Black Bat commented.

Batgirl sniggered at her almost-brother's swearing as she took Black Bat's camera and downloaded the images. "I see what you mean," she murmured.

The 'rooms' the other team were navigating were high-walled, but had no ceiling. There was the distinctive light of Nightwing's lantern. The walls could act as walkways, and there was a central room. In that room, much larger than the others, the edges of screens and the tops of heads were just visible.

"Looks like that's where they are," Batgirl murmured. "If we run along the walls, we can drop on them."

"Your balance is not perfect," Black Bat reminded her. Batgirl shrugged. She still hadn't recovered all the dexterity in her legs she'd lost when Joker paralysed her, despite the surgery restoring her mobility.

There was a thud of booted feet slamming to the ground behind them. Batgirl blinked and focused on the reflection in the screen, spying Black Bat stiffening out of the corner of her eye. The silhouette of the new arrival was somewhat indistinct.

"May I speak with you?" a female voice asked politely.

Batgirl turned, and saw Huntress. The dark-haired vigilante was standing, relaxed, hands clearly visible. "Go ahead," Batgirl said.

"I'd like to help with this operation," Huntress requested.

Batgirl and Black Bat exchanged a glance. B had shown an interest in learning more about and possibly recruiting Huntress. Agreeing to let her work with them would give them a good grasp of her skills and character in a fight, as well as the chance to see how worked in a team. But the motivation behind her sudden offer was…currently unknown. "Why are you here?" Batgirl asked.

"Red Robin has been out of the field for weeks," Huntress stated. "Rumour says he's recuperating from a training accident at Titans Tower. Whatever; he's not here. Batman and Robin are running around Gotham. You've split your team further. From the look of your screens, you'll be launching an assault from above. You could do with an extra body. I'd like to help."

Batgirl remained silent. It was good logic, even if it was slightly bothersome that she could read their strategy. She slid her eyes to Black Bat and pursed her lips in question. Black Bat inclined her head in approval at Huntress' offer.

" _If you two agree, I have no objections,_ " Tim spoke up.

Batgirl took another moment to think. She and Black Bat could deal with the situation alone if necessary, but turning down an offer like this wasn't always wise. Black Bat had found sincerity in her intentions and approved of her.

Batgirl reached into the glove box and pulled out a spare comm, activating it and chucking it over. "Alright," she agreed.

Huntress nodded, slipping the comm in her ear. "I appreciate you giving me the opportunity," she said.

"Right," Batgirl said. "I propose we focus the attack on this room here. Black Bat, take the north east corner. Huntress, south east. I'll take the west side. At least some of the occupants are likely to be armed, so use long distance attacks to disarm them before jumping down."

" _The others are approaching the centre,_ " Tim reported. " _If you wait for them, they can lay down a smoke screen as you fire. Do you all have infrared lenses?_ "

Huntress jumped slightly at the unexpected voice. "I don't," she admitted. "But I can fight blind."

" _Good enough,_ " Tim said with a verbal shrug. " _Go_."

Batgirl slid out of the Batmobile, shutting down the computer and locking and arming the car behind her. She led the way to the factory, then Black Bat showed them her breach point. Batgirl's chosen spot was nearest the entry, so she had a moment to watch her best friend and new ally move to their positions. Black Bat ran lightly and almost invisibly over the walls, while Huntress hopped from one to the other with the grace of a long-term gymnast. Interesting…

Slower and more careful, Batgirl ran down to her own post, readying a pair of batarangs. Black Bat did likewise and Huntress drew her mini crossbow.

The room, as predicted, was occupied by Riddler, Cluemaster and eight men with assault rifles. Over the commline, Tim ordered the team to use stratagem iota-seven-seven.

Batgirl aimed, watched the door, and as it opened, let fly.


	52. Smack Down

**Family Ties Chapter 52 Smack Down**

Smoke filled the room as the door crashed open. Spoiler flicked a button on her face mask while she slipped in and went straight to the left, and the room blurred, settling into red figures. A clatter marked the falling firearms, a flurry of red dots going wild as the bullets the thugs fired missed. The eight men had been waiting with assault rifles pointed directly at the door, about to riddle them with bullets.

" _Watch for Huntress,_ " Tim advised, revealing the ace he'd found for the hole. Spoiler flipped out the staff Tim had taught her to use, and pinpointed the three girls dropping down.

There were a few sharp cracks from Red Hood's handguns, and Nightwing bounced an escrima stick off one man's skull. Spoiler swept low, bringing the staff around in an arc and knocking down three different people. Seeing a total of six on the ground, and the other two bleeding liberally, she scanned the various thermal images, and lunged for Cluemaster lurking in the background.

Spoiler slammed into her father, bowling him over, but going sprawling herself. She sprang up again, but Cluemaster's boot impacted with her abdomen. Her breath whooshed out, and she crashed backwards into the computer bank. Her head slammed into the screen, and she heard a crack, stars swimming in front of her eyes. One of her infrared lenses failed, and through the thinning smoke, she saw Huntress land on her father, grapple for a moment, and pull him in a vicious full nelson, popping both his shoulders.

Nearby, Black Bat was deliberately providing pressure to Riddler's jugular, putting him to sleep. Red Hood was emptying a magazine of rubber concussive bullets, one to the head of each thug, while Nightwing emptied the bullets out of the assault rifles. Batgirl crouched by Spoiler, and gently took hold of her chin.

"Spoiler," Batgirl said clearly. "Concussion symptoms. What do you have?"

Spoiler blinked several times, pulling up the list she'd had drilled into her head ages ago. "Dizziness, headache," she listed. "Nausea, seeing stars." She pushed up against the computers, and Batgirl helped her stand. "Add poor balance," she gasped, her stomach flipping from Cluemaster's kick. "And…oh-" She fiddled with the bottom of her face mask, and Batgirl helped her pull it away before her dinner made a reappearance.

Tim audibly winced over the comm. " _I'll get the doc to head down to the clinic,_ " he said. " _When you're both ready, Red Hood, take Spoiler down, and get your shoulder checked while you're at it._ "

"Sure," Red Hood grumbled, holstering his handguns.

"Cops on the way?" Nightwing asked.

" _Yup,_ " Tim answered. " _And we've got three men you took down earlier willing to make plea bargains._ "

"You don't mind that?" Huntress asked.

" _They're men Red Hood shot earlier,"_ Tim explained. " _They'll take hospital time off their prison sentences in exchange for testimony._ "

"Sounds like a bad deal to them, but fair enough," Huntress shrugged.

" _Actually, testifying in itself is beneficial for them,_ " Tim pointed out. " _They're going to be convicted of attempted kidnapping of minors, among other things, and that tends to guarantee a rough time in jail. If it's on record that they were with an Arkhamite, the other Blackgaters will give them a bit of a pass._ "

"And they say there's no honour among thieves," Nightwing muttered. "Black Bat, Red Hood, Huntress, with me. Let's get the doors open for the Blue Boys."

Huntress looked a little bemused, but followed Nightwing's lead. Batgirl finished peeling Spoiler's mask off and checked her eyes. "You remember how you got injured? And since?"

"That bastard of an incompetent thief, and he got his shoulders popped," Spoiler growled.

"Good enough. Fingers?"

Spoiler blinked at the hand in front of her face. "Three, and the stars are dissipating. That right?"

"Yes, that's right. Can you walk?"

She took a few steps, unsteady but upright. "Just about. Hood, I'm ready when you are."

" _Gotcha. We're just at the last – first – whichever – door. It won't open. Just blow it off its hinges."_

" _That's a bit excessive,_ " Nightwing countered.

" _So? It'll work."_

" _Guys, B's on his way,_ " Tim interrupted.

" _Then why don't I go and escort Spoiler, and you can try to open that door without blasting it?"_ Red Hood suggested.

" _I – fine. Just gimme the C4,_ " Nightwing capitulated.

Spoiler rolled her eyes. No-one wanted to have to explain to B why there'd been delays in getting medical treatment, and Red Hood no doubt wanted to avoid getting told off for hurting himself on that door earlier. But the way the boys talked about it…

"What must Huntress think of us?" she mouthed.

Batgirl shook her head and smirked.

* * *

Tim blocked the comm's microphone as he told Skeets to save the footage of Huntress in action. If he was honest, he had to admit that he'd almost forgotten his research into the vigilante's identity. Bruce wasn't quite as controlling as he appeared, but he still wouldn't let anyone run around his city for too long without checking them out. Anyone could go rogue, so everyone had takedown protocols.

Tim had never read his own, but had contributed to the other Bat's protocols.

Anyway, Huntress wasn't terribly high profile. This was her first known brush with Arkhamites, and she wasn't thought to have killed anyone. B would give her a firm talking-to about tonight, and Tim would resume his investigation as soon as his fingers healed.

There were certainly questions she'd have to answer, but from her performance tonight, she'd probably do just fine.


	53. Interrogation

**Family Ties Chapter 53 Interrogation**

Robin stood just behind his father, watching the scene below. Grayson and Cain were stacking firearms on a police car's hood, and Gordon and the Huntress girl were hauling semi-conscious gunmen out. Father crouched on the edge of the roof. After a moment, Cain glanced up, aware of the scrutiny. Father tilted his head, subtly instructing her. She left her task, and tapped Huntress on the shoulder. The two grappled up to the roof, leaving Grayson and Gordon working below.

Father stepped backwards, and Cain moved over so she and Robin flanked their leader, leaving Huntress standing in the middle. The way her eyes, exposed beneath her lens-less mask, flicked from side to side showed she'd picked up on the subtly intimidation tactic. Interestingly, she didn't seem affected by it.

"Why are you here?" Father asked bluntly.

"Because you called me up here," Huntress replied snidely. Father glared, and the new girl folded her arms with a huff. "I figured out you were after a major target and I wanted in."

"How, and why?"

"I have interests regarding that day care centre, and so I was aware when Nightwing and Batgirl commenced operations in daylight," she shrugged. "You only do that when it's serious. When a Batmobile stayed put for a while, I caught up. I already knew you and Robin were mobile; Red Robin's incapacitation is old news; and seeing Batgirl, Black Bat and the screens made it fairly easy to deduce the strategy. As for why…" she paused, cocking her head slightly as she thought. "I haven't done anything big here yet. I want to. Nothing wrong with small timers with a side of organized crime, but when it comes to the heavy hitters, I want to pull my weight. And tonight, it looked like you could do with an extra body in the field."

Father subtly glanced at Cain, who gently inclined her head, detecting no falsehood. Knowing that area was her expertise, Robin was unsurprised that his father accepted it.

"What is your interest in the day care centre?" he asked.

"I suspect the head carer is a fence," Huntress replied promptly.

"Can you handle the case?"

"I see no reason why not."

"If you can't…"

"I can manage."

Another surreptitious nod from Cain, and the questions continued.

"How did you track the Batmobile?"

"I have access to police channels. It was sighted; I followed."

"Does Gordon know about your…access?"

"Highly unlikely."

"Illegal?"

"No more than a lot of what you do."

"You severely injured Cluemaster. Why?"

"He hurt Spoiler. I don't really know her, but it seems to me that a statement needs to be made that such actions will have consequences."

Father stared Huntress down. She met his gaze and held it longer than most, before glancing down.

"You had no need to do that," Father growled.

"I guess we'll just have to disagree," Huntress said evenly.

Father frowned ever so slightly, not happy but not finding her completely at fault. "You aren't telling me everything."

"No, I'm not," she agreed. "I'm not concealing anything which would harm you and yours. I know you have ways to detect falsehood."

Cain gave another nod, verifying the other girl's words.

"You're acting like a loose cannon," Father declared. "Be more controlled. Think with your brain, not your fists. We'll be watching."

Father gestured, and Robin followed him and Cain down to the street. They stood next to the Batmobile until Grayson and Gordon came over. "Wrap it up and head back, call it a night," Father instructed. "Robin, ride with Nightwing." He disappeared, presumably to retrieve the other Batmobile, and consult the Commissioner.

"We're pretty much done, anyway," Grayson shrugged. "Girls, bikes. Robin, shotgun. Let's go."

* * *

"You'll be fine, darling," Tim said reassuringly. "Concussion's not so bad. No internal injuries; that was the big worry. If you're too out of it in the morning, fake a stomach bug. I'll come round after school."

" _Sure,_ " Steph sighed. " _I…it was_ _ **my father**_ _. I used to think he cared…_ "

"He didn't know it was you," he reminded her gently.

" _For some reason, that doesn't make it better,_ " she murmured.

"I know," Tim said simply.

Steph sighed again. " _I need some sleep. G'night._ "

"Sweet dreams, love," he whispered, and the line went dead.

Tim unhooked his comm and massaged his forehead with the heel of his hand. Jason had come back as he'd returned from the satellite, bruised shoulder wrapped and ready for bed. The others were back soon after, Babs staying just long enough to change and return home. Tim was waiting for Bruce, to give him Cass' report on Huntress.

The Batmobile arrived and Bruce stepped out. "You should be in bed," he grunted, pulling back his cowl.

"Cass says that Huntress was telling the truth; evasive, but honest," Tim reported. "She agrees Huntress isn't trying to harm us with her reticence, and truly believes she can handle cases. She was only telling a half-truth when she said she hadn't done anything big yet. But what was most interesting was her reaction to your glare. She didn't look away out of fear. It was pain. Possibly _grief_."

"Odd," Bruce mused. "Give her space, but find her."


	54. Woe is Me

**Family Ties Chapter 54 Woe is Me**

Everything was subdued. A stressful operation was much more draining than a longer but quieter night on patrol. Even Tim was tired, and he hadn't actually done anything but sit in front of a computer. Steph had chosen to stay home, and Jason was making Tim carry his own bag – it was really to spare his aching shoulder, but made it look like they'd had a spat, which wasn't uncommon for them. Cass and Damian were just sleepy.

Tim had been ignoring his classes in favour of his operation analysis report, which by lunchtime was already at six pages, and he was only just finishing with the dentist and later he'd have to integrate everyone else's reports, and hopefully he'd get some sleep before five in the morning. Maybe leaving the report until the morning rather than starting straight away had been a bad idea.

"Tim, eat," Cass told him firmly. Tim glanced up absently from his micro, and took a long draught of soup through a straw before returning to the report.

"At least we've got most of the escaped Arkhamites back," Jason mumbled. "Pity we haven't seen Joker since Vegas."

"Todd, company," Damian reminded him.

"Whatever," Jason grumbled.

"Why so down?" Cass asked. "You're normally better after an intense night."

"I dunno. I just…" he glanced over at Tim, who appeared to be engrossed in his report.

"If you want to talk behind my back, I'll head to the library," Tim said, surprising them. "Get some peace and quiet while I'm at it."

"You'll get Cass to tell you later," Jason pointed out.

"I'm sure she'll edit it so I'm not insulted that you don't like me dictating strategy to you," Tim said drolly.

Jason eyeballed his successor. "Go away."

"Finish your lunch first," Cass insisted.

"Grab my pills?" Tim sighed, before ducking his head to suck up more soup. Jason retrieved and dispensed the medicine, for once not having to listen to Tim's insecurities about his current infirmity. Tim only took his eyes off the micro for a moment while gulping down his food. "I'll meet you at the lockers," he said, rising and departing.

As Tim went out of earshot, Cass turned back to Jason. "Talk."

"Did you hear Tim talking to Stephanie after we all came home last night?" Cass and Damian shook their heads, so he continued. "I could hear all that love and support and companionship, and…I kinda wanted some of that."

"From Tim?" Cass asked dubiously.

Jason glared. "No," he said coolly. "I think I miss Holly."

"The girl you were seeing?" Damian frowned. "Didn't you only part company day before yesterday?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Jason shrugged. "I like her, and I didn't like giving her up, and I kinda hope she contacts me again."

"You have feelings for her," Cass stated.

"Yeah. No. I dunno. Whatever; I'll work it out." He got up and grabbed his and Tim's empty trays and stalked off to brood.

"What will you tell Drake?" Damian asked.

"The truth," Cass shrugged. "Hearing Tim and Steph made Jason regret losing his girl."

Damian nodded slowly. "Todd is…jealous that Drake has a girlfriend?"

"Not quite," Cass corrected. "Jealous Tim has his relationships sorted. He knows what to expect from and what he can give to everyone important to him, and who to turn to when. Jason doesn't, and got too emotionally involved with his Holly."

"Does Todd know that?" Damian asked, aware that Cass' deductions sometimes went beyond what the subject himself had realised.

"No, not yet. I'll let him work it out."

Damian nodded and finished his lunch. "Cain, do you want a boyfriend?" he asked suddenly.

Cass frowned and sipped her drink. "I don't mind either way right now," she decided. "I expect I will start to desire romance sometime in the next few years." She eyed her brother. "You will, too."

"After seeing Todd tied in knots? I'll give it a miss," Damian snorted.

"We'll see," Cass said smugly.

* * *

Tim kept his arms wrapped around his girlfriend as she cried into his shoulder. Steph had a tendency to bouts of tearfulness, anxiety and self-criticism while recovering from concussions, but hopefully she'd be over it soon.

"I messed up big time," Steph mumbled. "B's furious, isn't he?"

"Well, he won't exactly be praising you, but I think he's more irritated with Jason," Tim replied dryly. "You didn't do that bad."

"I acted on impulse, jumped in unprepared and got injured for it," Steph sniffled. "Everything I was warned about."

"There was one time about two years ago," Tim narrated. "You were watching three gunmen rob a woman. I was going to catch you up so we could jump them together, but you moved first. Couple blows, two gunshots, you were done. You told me you were acting completely on impulse." He pulled away slightly and looked deep in her eyes, "The woman was about two seconds from getting a knife in her leg. Both bullets come close to hitting you, but you moved out of the way. And you didn't even realise it. You'd seen all the details and they bypassed your brain to your instincts. Impulses aren't all bad; you just have to learn to filter out the emotion driven ones."

Steph's eyes teared up again and she flung her arms round his neck. "Best boyfriend ever!"

Tim just laughed.


	55. Normal Business

**Family Ties Chapter 55 Normal Business**

It wasn't unusual to get left out of the loop even for an op you were assigned to. But it was slightly odd for such ignorance to be due to a high workload rather than a cunning strategy. Cass, along with Babs and Steph, had spent the last two days and nights trying and failing to locate the firearms used by Riddler and Cluemaster's gang, which had somehow gone missing on the way to the GCPD's evidence lockers. So it was understandable that she was a little behind on the Far East smuggling case.

The private jet was waiting to take off as soon as school ended, and Cass and Tim had a suitcase packed before they left the Manor that morning. Cass waited until they were in the air before opening the conversation. "You have a briefing?" she asked.

"Yeah," Tim nodded. "We have two objectives. I have meetings with various people at WE Tokyo regarding the microcomputer. In the eyes of the public, you are escorting me. What you'll actually be doing is assessing eleven companies that use Swift Transport. We need to know if their shipments include smuggled goods, who in the company is involved, to what extent the corruption runs, and preferably, which if any front companies could remain solvent without the smuggling, but with lower shipping costs. That's something that would boost our revenues, not fight crime, so it's not a priority. Also, we'd like you and Mr Unknown to find some way to keep the Yakuza out of it. We don't think they've been involved so far – maybe a little protection racketeering, but nothing else – but they might try to take Swift Transport's place. Obviously, we don't want that to happen."

"What are we expecting?" Cass asked.

"I'm expecting most of the businesses to either be legit, or capable of becoming legit, maybe with a bit of investment." Tim paused for a moment. "We might want to invest even if we don't see much return, just to protect the workforce. The Yakuza might be more difficult. I'd suggest you explain the situation to Mr Unknown and collaborate. He knows them better than we do."

"Anything else?" Cass mused.

"Tim and Cass Wayne might have to put in an appearance at some social function or other," Tim grunted. "Alfred packed one of your dresses. Accessories, too."

"Which one?"

"The gold with silver highlights."

Cass hmm'ed. "Do you think anyone's noticed that I never wear heels?"

"Unlikely," Tim shrugged. "If someone pulls you up on it, blame it on being a street kid."

"Babs has her paralysis; what's Steph's excuse?"

"I like her at just the height she is?" Tim suggested.

Cass giggled. "You'll find something. Where's my paperwork?"

* * *

"Aside from the eleven in Japan, there are three companies in Malaysia, seven in Indonesia, two in the Philippines, four in Thailand, five in Hong Kong, one in Cambodia and one in Papua New Guinea. Luckily the Vietnamese don't work with Americans."

Tim sighed. "Yeah, I know. I think we'll be ruining everyone's Sunday morning again. But it's the Yakuza we're worried about at the moment."

Cass stretched in her seat. "I know it's necessary, but this sort of data gathering is so boring."

"Arguing with executives and marketing managers isn't exactly fun either," Tim grumbled. "Nor as rewarding."

"Didn't you spend all the R&D budget?" Cass teased.

"Of course not," Tim retorted, mock-offended. "It's just most of the rest has already been set aside for the Secret Annexe refurbishment. Damian just won't release the funds until we've upped revenue."

"Whatever you say," Cass said, rolling her eyes. "Mind if I get some sleep?"

"No, I'll probably join you soon enough."

* * *

Tim glanced out the window as Cass grabbed the suitcase. "Someone sicced the paps on us," he commented. "Don't let them bother you, smile, look pleasant, give non-answers, usual stuff."

"I know the drill," Cass answered. She took Tim's arm as the jet's door opened and they gracefully descended, paying the camera flashes no mind until they were within earshot. Then they heard the babble of voices, mostly Japanese, but some in broken English.

" _One at a time, please,_ " Tim said, smiling pleasantly, sticking to Japanese.

" _Mr Drake-Wayne, Miss Cain-Wayne!_ " The first journalist yelled, making Cass wince at a pair of surnames that did not suit double-barrelling. " _What's the reason for your visit to Tokyo?_ "

Tim kept his smile plastered on his face. " _I have business with WE's Tokyo branch,_ " he answered. " _Due to my injury, Bruce insisted someone come with me, and Cass volunteered._ "

" _Is there a little romance in the air?_ " another journalist called.

" _Between_ _ **us**_ _? He's my brother!_ " Cass said.

" _As much as I cherish my beloved sister, our relationship is strictly platonic,_ " Tim added. " _I_ _ **do**_ _already have a girlfriend._ "

" _And she isn't jealous?_ " someone laughed.

" _No more than if I was with one of my brothers,_ " Tim said firmly.

" _Any other plans for while you're in the city?_ "

" _Might have dinner in one of the restaurants,_ " Tim mused. " _I think…Cass, didn't you want to do some shopping?_ "

" _While you're in your meetings, yes,_ " Cass nodded.

" _Any truth in the rumours that the Wayne family is expanding?_ " another person yelled.

Tim paused. " _I haven't heard those rumours. As far as I'm aware, there's nothing going along those lines. I suppose it's possible Bruce or Dick got a girl pregnant, but I don't think so._ " There was a bit of laugh among the journalists, and Tim smiled. " _I don't keep track of whose beds they sleep in, but we're not trying to increase right now._ "

" _So it isn't true that Richard gave his girlfriend a ring for her birthday?_ "

" _It was a necklace,_ " Cass corrected.

" _Considering that Bruce seems to like adoption, is he looking for another child that way?_ "

" _Looking? No,_ " Tim said, rolling his eyes. _"Believe it or not, it just tends to happen. If he finds someone who needs him, then we'll end up with another sibling. If not, we won't. Now if you'll excuse us, no further questions._ "


	56. Jetlag

**Family Ties Chapter 56 Jetlag**

"How did you get _extra homework_?" Damian asked derisively.

"Because for some reason the teachers aren't sympathetic to jetlag," Tim grumbled. "And I'm too tired to cover it up effectively. You do know I haven't slept since the flight on Friday?"

"Why didn't you sleep on the return flight? I did," Cass asked.

"I was writing the business report. Here, Dami, have a look at these figures." He turned the microcomputer over to his youngest brother and returned to his lunch – for once using his utensil holder to hold the fork he was using to spear a plate of fries.

"So where are you with the case?" Steph asked.

Tim leaned in slightly, and the others followed his cue. " _We've got all the data we need,_ " Tim said in Romani. " _We'll start planning a strategy tomorrow, and hopefully wrap it up by the weekend. Unless demon bird finds a mistake in my figures. With luck, we'll be able to get the company moving fast enough to finish the business side of things at the end of next week._ "

" _And the local bosses?"_ Jason asked, referring to the Yakuza.

" _We bust three of their operations,"_ Cass answered. " _Mr Unknown is going to focus almost solely on them for the rest of the month. That'll keep them too busy to interfere._ "

" _So it was a success?"_ Steph asked.

" _It was indeed,_ " Tim smirked.

Damian grunted and returned the micro. "I see no obvious errors."

"So I can go ahead with the Secret Annexe refurbishment?" Tim asked hopefully.

"Get me a rough plan and some idea of costings," Damian allowed. "If your figures withstand close examination, we'll see if we can afford it."

"Thanks, Dami," Tim smiled.

"Make sure you include the cost of that new security system," Damian added. "Father said it looked promising, if you can make it work."

"'Course I can," Tim grumbled.

"So what's the place gonna look like when you're done?" Steph asked.

"Let's do something age-appropriate," Jason suggested. "Nice thick shag carpets, couple disco balls, lava lamps…" He noticed Tim's irritated glare. "Shutting up now."

"Well, I had an idea I wanted to talk to all of you about," Tim started. "I was thinking we could make-"

"Tim!"

The five of them looked up at the unfamiliar, slightly shrill voice. A girl from his French class, considered by some to be one of the prettier Sophomore girls, was sashaying towards them. Steph glanced at Tim, raising an eyebrow slightly. Tim pursed his lips and twitched his head in a shake.

"Tim, I saw you in the papers," the girl simpered. "You looked great."

"Thank you," Tim said flatly. "This is my sister Cass, my brother Damian, and my girlfriend Steph. You already know Jason." He gestured around the table, hoping the girl would introduce herself as he quite honestly couldn't recall her name.

"Layla Wilde," she complied, smiling brightly. "You've probably heard of my family."

"Any relation to Jay Wilde?" Cass asked. "Murdered by Joker eleven years ago and had the Ronkers Ruby stolen."

"Her uncle," Tim supplied, making the connection before Layla could respond . "The family fortune was built on the jewel trade."

"Was the ruby ever recovered?" Jason asked.

"Not that I recall," Layla answered, knocked off-kilter slightly.

"We'll have the files checked," Tim murmured.

"Anyway, how did your outing to Japan go?" Layla asked.

"Not bad," Tim said vaguely. "Wayne Enterprises isn't going down any time soon. So the trip can't have been a complete failure."

Layla laughed vapidly. "And caught the bright lights of Tokyo while you were there."

"It was a business trip," Tim corrected. "I was working."

"Oh," Layla said, slightly disappointed. "But it was fun?"

"Decent, but the jetlag's a killer," Tim shrugged.

"Are you looking forward to the Hallowe'en Ball?" Layla asked.

"My splints will be off by then," Tim answered happily. "How 'bout some dances, Steph?"

"Great," the blonde smiled. "Sounds fun."

"Well, my mom won't let me go unless I get a date, so…" Layla said, batting her eyes at Tim.

"I have Steph," Tim said simply.

"Oh." Layla deflated. Then she perked up again. "Jason? How about you?"

"Not my type; sorry," Jason shrugged. "I prefer my girls a little more…" he struggled for the right word for a moment, "balls-y."

Layla looked dejected, her first and second choices of beaus forcing her to turn elsewhere to less appealing pickings. "Oh well. Chances are the Ball won't go ahead anyway."

"Wait, why not?" Tim asked.

"Haven't you heard? The Kanes are rumoured to be having a little trouble in the PR department." Layla rose. "See you around." She slunk off.

"Well that's interesting," Tim mused.

"That sluts are throwing themselves at you?" Steph growled possessively.

"No, that the Kanes might not be able to host the Ball," Tim said absently. "Dami, can we-"

"If Father lets us dig into the personal accounts, yes," Damian nodded.

"What?" Jason asked.

"We're the closest family to the Kanes with the correct standing," Tim explained.

"We are? What's that got to do with anything?" Jason frowned.

"Closest by blood; Bruce and Dami, at least," Tim shrugged. "If a family is having difficulties with societal responsibilities, the nearest family to them has an obligation to assist them. So if the Kanes can't host the Ball…"

"We have to," Cass nodded. "Sounds strange."

"I keep forgetting you don't have such a grasp of high society," Tim mused.

"How long would it take to plan the Ball?" Steph asked.

"If we use the Manor as the location, pull out our own resources-"

"Which we _do_ have in stock-"

"Then we just need to arrange catering, entertainment and invites-"

"So we'll have a low cost as well." Tim and Damian glared at each other as though daring the other to continue trying to outdo the other in quick deductions and conclusions.

"Tiiiim?" Steph wheedled. "Can we have bagpipes?"

Tim stared at her. "That would really irritate some people." He shrugged. "Yeah, why not?"


	57. The Dinner Table

**Family Ties Chapter 57 The Dinner Table**

"Where's Drake?" Damian demanded.

"Master Timothy is asleep," Alfred answered, setting the dinner plates on the table. Damian let out an irritated 'tt', and half-rose to fetch the errant teen. "Let him be," Alfred reprimanded sharply.

"Tim looks so cute when he's sleeping," Dick added.

"Boys," Bruce said, entering with Cass on his heels, just as Damian launched into a multilingual rant about homosexual pseudo-incest.

"Don't worry, Dami; you look cute asleep too," Dick interrupted, then had to duck the knife that subsequently flew past his ear.

"Boys!" Bruce said sharply.

"Sorry; couldn't resist," Dick snickered.

"You have all the maturity of a four-year-old," Damian accused.

"Dami, _you_ started throwing things," Bruce reminded him wearily. "Why are you so upset?"

"Drake made an error in his financial calculations," Damian replied.

"We don't get as much revenue as he said?" Jason frowned.

"No." Damian paused for a moment before admitting, "We'll get more."

"What a terrible miscalculation," Cass said sarcastically.

"Master Damian, four dollars fifty in the swear jar."

* * *

By dinner the next evening, the dining room table was covered in papers Bruce, Tim and Damian were pouring over. Dick and Babs came up from the cave as Jason and Cass appeared from different parts of the Manor, all eager to get some food before the night's patrols started.

"What are you doing?" Dick asked, glancing at charts and spreadsheets.

"I think we've got the corporate takeover planned now," Tim said. "Managing the PR kick is a bit trickier."

"What PR kick?" Jason frowned.

"Batman Incorporated dismantles certain businesses, and the parent company fills the gap in the market," Damian explained. "The implication is that B Inc made the gap for WE."

"We'd have done it anyway," Bruce growled.

"Yes, but the general public aren't as good at telepathy as J'onn and M'gann," Tim said lightly. "Probably a good thing, but a little irritating somewhat."

"Then they would know when we were coming for them," Damian frowned.

"I think he was joking," Dick said mildly.

"Boys, focus," Bruce chided.

"If quizzed, we point to these companies," Damian elaborated, indicating one of his papers. "They will make a loss for three years, break even for a subsequent two, then they turn a profit. These will break even for one to three-and-a-half years, then turn profit. Across all companies, there will be a net profit, but an insubstantial one for two years."

"Damian was a little more generous in his estimates than me," Tim added. "Both of us agree that by using this strategy we will secure the workforce's welfare, which is the most important objective."

"You have the first draft of the criminal offense ready?" Bruce asked.

"Sure; pass that laptop." Damian gave his eldest brother a spare computer as a chime connected to the doorbell alerted them to the fact someone was at the door. Alfred hurried past, Tim tagging along behind. Bruce swept over to Dick as he and Babs started pulling up their plans. "So, we hit from east to west, follow the sun and get the main offices as they open. Find some excuse for a few of us to skip class on Friday; give us a longer period to deal with the unexpected. Problem is, I'd like to work out of somewhere a little closer to the targets. Any ideas?"

Tim and Alfred reappeared with Steph. "Tim, Jason is giving you an emetic for lunch on Thursday," Bruce told him.

"As much as I like vomiting, what's it in aid of this time?" Tim asked sardonically.

"Gets you out of school on Friday, and if one of you is ill, so might all of you," Bruce explained. "Stephanie, you go. You've already used the stomach bug excuse."

"Fair enough," Steph shrugged. "I've got schoolwork I could do with being in class for. Speaking of, I need to plunder your library for details of Wayne Industries' contribution to the US Navy during the Second World War."

"I'll hunt something out for you later," Tim said absently. "What were you saying just now, Dick?"

"Gotham's too far away from the action," the acrobat replied. "If we're co-ordinating multiple law enforcement assault teams and liaising with various police chiefs, we'll want to be closer and preferably have somewhere more professional than one of our WE offices."

"Well that's easy; borrow Titans Tower in 'Frisco," Tim shrugged.

"You're meant to be laid up there with a broken leg," Babs pointed out.

"It'll take us _how_ long to put some plaster on my leg?" he asked rhetorically. "Gimme a pair of crutches, we'll stick the fingers of my gloves together, put Batgirl and I at the computer, no-one will know."

"Check with Leslie and call Cyborg, then go over the plans," Bruce instructed.

Alfred cleared his throat. "Would you like dinner at the other end of the table?" he asked pointedly.

Slightly sheepishly, they made their way to the food. "Bruce, Dami," Tim said, restarting conversation. "I want to ask Marketing to push the tech buy-back again. Do I have your approval?"

"If you give them a modest budget," Damian shrugged.

"It'll improve our image and help microcomputer construction," Bruce agreed. "If you want the Annexe refurbished, though, you can't let them have too much to spend. What were you planning for the Annexe, by the way?"

"Well, I was thinking of pretty much the complete opposite of the cave." Tim paused to eat another mouthful before continuing. "The cave suits you, B, but not so much the rest of us. Dami, maybe, but…Anyway, so rather than dark and dingy, I was thinking light and airy. When we're meeting people we don't want to intimidate; when we want a slightly more public location; when we want us the Waynes to be doing B Inc stuff. Oh, and no stairs."

"No stairs?" Dick raised an eyebrow. "Sounds fun, but…"

"Ramps, ladders, and a big hole," Tim confirmed. "Fun for us, confusing for everyone else."

"If you all want it, go ahead," Bruce decided. "I'll stick with the cave."


	58. Going Global

**Family Ties Chapter 58 Going Global**

"And…done!" Dick declared, capping the Sharpie pan. Tim twisted his left leg and examined the new cast now adorned with nearly two dozen forged signatures from various members of the Justice League, Teen Titans and assorted other allies – along with genuine ones from the Bats.

"Stop squirming," Leslie complained from where she was forcing Tim's fingers into a modified pair of gloves. The padding and other innards had been stripped from the fingers and replaced with flat splints. Then the fingers, once in the gloves, were stuck together.

"Are you sure I can't just lose the splints?" Tim said hopefully.

"Not yet, no," Leslie shot him down. "Why can't you just _let_ them heal?"

"We need an extra pair of hands – metaphorical hands – on this one," Tim said, trying to shrug without disturbing Leslie. "You know how seriously we have to take things."

"I wish you wouldn't jeopardize your long term health while you're at it," the doctor sighed.

"Don't think you'll ever convince us of that," Dick snarked. "Tim, if your fingers are all done up like that, will you be able to use the crutches?"

"Don't. Try," Leslie ordered, alarmed.

"Fine, fine," Tim capitulated, before noticing his brother doing a Cheshire Cat impression. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," Dick said innocently. "I was just wondering. Do you prefer bridal style or piggyback?"

There were times when Tim _really_ appreciated his wide vocabulary of swear words.

* * *

"Tim, is there any reason why you didn't trust us to sign our own names?" Cassia asked, staring at the plaster concoction on her teammate's leg.

"That had been the original plan," Tim said dryly. "Dick got carried away."

"Let's hope you don't have to fake too many broken limbs, or you'll accidently start a market for superhero signatures as forged by Nightwing," Cassie grinned.

"I can see Damian actually trying that," Tim groaned. "And Bruce being furious. Are you sure you don't mind us taking over the Tower?"

"Not after you told us it's related to the story you sent Clark to Cebu for," Cassie shrugged. "If you want to come down in about 15 minutes, though, M'gann's making cookies."

"I would, but I'm a little stuck," Tim grumbled. He gestured at the plastered leg lying on a spare chair parallel to the massive computer. "I can't walk on that without cracking the plaster. I can't use the crutches without risking damaging my fingers further. Dick just plonked me here and left."

"Poor you" Cassie smirked. "Maybe he didn't realise you'd have a problem."

"Even he'd find it difficult to get around on one limb," Tim pointed out.

"Not that difficult," Cassie smiled. "So are you just abandoned here?"

"Batgirl'll be coming soon; we're running mission control together," Tim shrugged. "We can multitask well enough to make up for the fingers."

"You need us to help?"

Tim pursed his lips, considering. "If you and some of the others are willing to act as pack mules, that'll help," he decided. "And can you get me some coffee?"

Cassie laughed. "Sure, and if M'gann's cookies are fit for human consumption, I'll bring some of those."

* * *

"Batgirl, Titans Tower. Who's speaking?"

"Yes, this is Red Robin. How can I help you?"

"Nightwing's in Bandung; he's got the paperwork for Indonesia. We can have him in Jakarta in ten minutes or so."

"Yes, I appreciate that you'd like to continue dealing with Black Bat, but she's moved on to Kuala Lumpur. May I ask why-?"

"Of course. Feel free to contact us if you have any further problems."

"I understand. I'll have her return directly. Superboy, I need you to pick up Black Bat from Kuala Lumpur and take her to Cebu. Black Bat, finish up asap. You're returning to Cebu. Your trafficking case is resurfacing."

"Oh, hell. That's terrible. Shall I check who can take over?"

"Yes, thanks, Batgirl. B's in Thailand. Is he on the move, or…"

"Well, if Nightwing's got to do those three in Jakarta-"

"Good point. Batman, this is Red Robin. Black Bat has been called to Cebu. We need you to cover west Malaysia."

"He's not taking it well?"

"I can't tell; he's- Spoiler? Report."

"Go through that again. Okay. Just leave it then. Take patrol route five."

"What was that?"

"The arms missing on their way to lock-up. We've exhausted all the leads for recovering them."

"Well, we've had that before. Let's focus here; it's like being in a call centre."

"You can say that again. Nightwing, have you finished with the first company yet?"

"Red Robin speaking. What's your situation?"

" _Red Robin, the Philippines' ambassador to the UN, Libran Cabactulan, has arrived and would like an audience,"_ came Wonder Girl's voice over the intercom.

Red Robin and Batgirl exchanged quick glances. "We knew there was a chance someone would turn up," Red Robin murmured. "At least we're pretty much done now."

"Yeah, we're only doing our biggest multinational operation to date," Batgirl chuckled.

"True," Red Robin grinned, and thumbed the intercom button. "Tell Ambassador Cabactulan we'd be delighted to meet him," he said.

"Let's turn you around a bit," Batgirl offered, and helped pull Red Robin's chairs around until he was at ninety degrees to the computer bank, leg still stretched out.

The elevator doors opened, and the Philippine diplomat stepped into the computer room. His eyes flicked around, nervous but perfectly composed. "Ms Batgirl, Mr Red Robin," he said in greeting.

"Mr Ambassador," Batgirl said, rising and shaking his hand.

"Ambassador," Red Robin nodded. "Forgive me for not standing."

"Quite understandable," Cabactulan smiled, taking Red Robin's hand. "I'd just like to thank your organization on behalf of my government for your efforts in my country. Your actions to safeguard our citizens and bring awareness to our problems are much appreciated."

"Our pleasure," Batgirl replied. "We were very upset by what Black Bat discovered last month and have been working towards this offensive ever since."

"Again, thank you." Cabactulan paused before continuing. "If I may, could I request that Batman Incorporated place an agent in my country?"

"We have already taken a similar suggestion under advisement," Red Robin answered quickly. "I'm afraid we can't just yet. Black Bat isn't ready for a permanent assignment elsewhere, and we have no other suitable agents. If someone does join us who may fit there, we'll seriously consider it. Meanwhile, we intend to continue long distance operations, with the assistance of Mr Unknown."

"Of course," Ambassador Cabactulan sighed. "My government and I appreciate your efforts."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This last passage gave me a fair few problems. I initially wanted someone from the relevant section of the UN, which would be the Sixth Committee of the General Assembly. Except that the committees only have chairmen, vice-chairmen and rapporteurs when the UN is in session, and it's not in session this year (Family Ties is over September and October 2014). I tried to find out who was in those positions last session, but gave up after about fifteen minutes of surfing the web. So I checked the names of the UN Ambassadors for the relevant countries, and came up with Libran N. Cabactulan. I should also point out that I'm not entirely sure which name is the family name, so apologies if I've got it wrong.
> 
> After that, I had three different ideas for what they'd talk about. I found out that Arabic is one of the six official languages of the UN, so I had a vague idea of Red Hood calling for advice on what he's up to, but you'll see next week why I decided that was a bad idea. The other rejected idea was that Cabactulan would offer to support the Bats next time the US's ambassador complained about them, and then Batgirl saying that they're still a little sore about the No Man's Land debacle. But that seemed a little petty. Whereas this bit fits in quite nicely with the events of chapters 11 to 13.
> 
> Don't I take care of you all?


	59. What Happens In Gotham

**Family Ties Chapter 59 What Happens in Gotham**

Red Hood stood still as a statue. He could hear the gently padding footsteps behind him, and knew their owner had scented prey.

"Hey, handsome," a soft, feminine voice purred. Red Hood turned and sighed.

"Catwoman, stop playing," he said grumpily.

The cat thief grinned and slid into a less provocative posture. "Sorry, couldn't resist. So, what's up, bad-bird?"

"Got a proposition," Red Hood grunted. "Have a look at this." He passed a sheet of paper over.

"Addresses?" Catwoman asked.

"Yup," he smirked beneath his helmet. "How'd you fancy going into them all and robbing them blind?"

"Sounds fun," she perked up. "But I'm trying to be a good kitty now."

"They're drug bosses."

"I'm in."

* * *

"I can't help but think you've not told me the whole plan," Catwoman said, dropping down next to Red Hood's borrowed Batmobile and carrying a bulging bag of loot.

"Nah," Red Hood said, hiding the fact he'd started at her arrival. "See, it's all about the cash flow. If the boss loses the money, he can't buy drugs. He can't buy guns, or ammo. He can't pay wages. This is the first step."

"What's the next step?" Catwoman asked curiously.

"Go down some bars, pretend to be drunk, start some fights, win, gloat," Red Hood shrugged.

"What will that achieve?" she frowned.

"It'll erode confidence and make the gang guys look like a bunch of wusses. Then I'll start stockpiling their weaponry, do a bit more to shatter reputations, might ask you to do a few more heists, arrange a few arrests, break a few bones, whatever." He leaned back against the Batmobile in satisfaction. "Basically, make life very difficult and keep 'em off balance. It'll take months to get it done properly, but it's the kind of thing you pick up when you're not busy."

"Have you had B sign off this operation?" Catwoman asked idly.

"It involves larceny and bar fights. Why do you think I waited 'til he was out of town before starting?"

"Good point."

* * *

Red Hood skidded the Batmobile to a halt mid-handbrake turn. Snapping the belt off and springing the door open, he darted out. He drew his handguns, flicked the safeties off, aimed and fired on one smooth, mirrored movement. A pair of would-be car-jackers dropped as the sedative in his tranq bullets worked its way into their systems. Grumbling to himself, he cuffed them to a railing, scrawled 'car thief' on each of their foreheads, and checked the car was undamaged before returning to his own vehicle.

The Batmobile eased off, and swam through the gloom of Gotham's backstreets before reaching its destination. Catwoman was already waiting, looking slightly concerned.

"You're late," she announced. "What kept you?"

"Damn street criminals made me stop five times," Red Hood grunted as he got out of the car again. "What you got this time?"

Catwoman picked up a sack, and emptied it onto the Batmobile's hood. A mess of white powder in little bags fell out. "Got this," she answered.

"This cocaine or heroin?" has asked, picking up and examining one of the packets.

"Not sure," Catwoman shrugged. "What do you want done with it?"

"B told me to stop throwing the drugs in the river, so…not sure." Red Hood stared at the pile for a moment, before shrugging himself. "I'll call it in."

"Right. Now, I think I saw some rather nice jewels."

Catwoman disappeared. Red Hood waited a moment before activating his comm.

" _Red Robin; what's your situation?_ " the weary voice on the other end opened.

"Hey, Li'l Bird," Red Hood smirked. "How's tricks?"

" _Hood, either tell me what's up, or get back to work,_ " Red Robin sighed.

"I…may have come into possession of a quantity of heroin. Or cocaine. Or maybe speed. It's drugs, and I'm not allowed to just dump it. So what do I do with it?" Red Hood asked.

" _How did you get hold of that?!_ " Batgirl asked, alarmed.

"Me and Catwoman found it lying around," Red Hood answered evasively.

" _Please don't tell me you found it by a dead body,_ " Red Robin groaned.

"Who d'you take me for?" Red Hood protested.

" _A vigilante with homicidal tendencies,_ " Red Robin sighed. " _Okay. Take it down to the GCPD HQ. The Commissioner's probably gone home, but there'll most likely be someone around who'll talk to you. Tell 'em Wayne Pharmaceutics will do the disposal for free. And don't do anything stupid._ "

"I know how to handle myself," he retorted. "Red Hood out."

Catwoman dropped down again, carrying her refilled sack. "Nice haul," she commented. "He must have a rather high maintenance girl or two. Found a whole load of expensive costume jewellery stashed in a closet."

"Odd, I'd heard rumours about that one…" Red Hood frowned.

"What kind of rumours?" Catwoman asked.

"That he likes little boys," Red Hood answered grimly. "Never heard more than 'I heard from so-and-so, who said that someone heard that', so I couldn't really do anything, but I've been keeping an eye out."

"So if he doesn't like girls, why'd he have so much jewellery?" Catwoman asked rhetorically.

"All I can think of is that he's got a competitor of yours," Red Hood shrugged. "Mind if I keep that lot?"

"I can always nick more," she said lightly. "Meet you at the next place?"

"Yeah, but I gotta swing by the cops, lose the drugs."

"Fair enough. This guy's got a reputation as an art buff, but I heard he's got a forger."

"Heh. I wonder if he's any good?"

* * *

"Alfred, I desire to go on patrol," Damian declared haughtily stomping into the kitchen and limping slightly.

"You were told to stay off your feet tonight and stay in tomorrow," Alfred reminded him.

"I am perfectly capable-" Damian protested.

"If you are going to chase your brothers around the Manor and sprain your ankle, Master Bruce _will_ make you keep to Dr Thompkins' instruction. Injure yourself needlessly as Damian Wayne, and heal like Damian Wayne."

"It's only a minor tear to a ligament! I can still walk on it; it hardly hurts at all."

"That's why you only have one night and day of non-activity, and one further night benched. Now go sit down."


	60. Back To Work

**Family Ties Chapter 60 Back to Work**

"Hold still, or I'll take these off tomorrow like I originally planned," Leslie threatened.

Tim froze. After six weeks of splinted fingers, he was finally being freed - a whole twelve hours early.

"I still want you to stay home for another week or so," Leslie continued. "And don't overdo things. If your fingers hurt, come see me." She peeled off the last bandage and started carefully bending each finger.

"Thank you, Leslie," Bruce murmured from the chair nearer the door in Leslie's examination room. "Tim, benched."

"I guessed that," Tim grumbled. "At least I'm healed in time for the Halloween Ball."

"You're hosting it, right?" Leslie asked. "On Friday?"

"As the thirty-first _is_ a Friday this year, yes that's when it'll be," Tim confirmed. "We're actually having two this year. They're at the same time, but the second is for teens and young adults, so there's a DJ, more modern music and non-alcoholic drinks."

"Why the extra one?"

"Because I owe a debt to one of my classmates. If she attends a Wayne ball, it'll repay her, but she wouldn't be allowed to attend the type of event we normally host. Besides, it is in our own best interests to volunteer to uphold the Kane's obligation. They can't host a ball right now, but we can." Tim shrugged. "It was the classmate that informed us that the Kanes are having difficulties."

"Lot of effort for a simple social debt repayment."

"There are quite a few parents who ordinarily would keep their children home, but are now letting them go, which now puts those children in debt to us," Bruce explained.

"And because everyone at school knows it was us kids who came up with it, the majority of our classmates now owe us," Tim finished.

"Social politics, huh?" Leslie mused.

"Unlike Bruce, I paid attention when my parents explained the workings of high society," Tim smirked.

"It isn't essential. I hardly had time for what needed to be done, and no-on really knew what to do before you started managing the family's social interactions," Bruce commented.

"You're done now," Leslie interrupted. "Come back next week for a check-up, and don't overwork yourself again."

"I'll try my best," Tim promised, hopping off the examination table.

"In other words, you'll relax for about four hours, then start going full tilt again."

"Of course not," Tim said, scandalized. "I'm benched for a week, and I'll probably find some excuse to be seen in a cast in San Francisco."

"Just don't get injured," she sighed.

"We'll try," Bruce assured her.

They left the clinic, where Alfred was waiting with one of the cars to take Tim to school. "What do you have today, Bruce?" Tim asked.

"Video call with the head of Bionym about the new security system," Bruce told him. "Then I have to get the annexe refurbishment underway. We'll have to close it off soon."

"I'll run through the inventory and see what we need to move into the cave, and what can go into storage," Tim nodded. "Shall I have Dami locate a storage facility?"

"Give him both jobs," Bruce requested.

"If you say so. Why?"

"I want you back on the Huntress research."

"Ah. Sure, no problem. I'm hoping I'll have an ID to check in a few hours." He shrugged. "That's if she does have a driving licence. Otherwise I'll have to start again."

"What are you going to checking?" Bruce asked.

"City records, medical records, bank records. In that order."

"Good. Have a report for me as soon as possible."

* * *

Jason entered the cave to suit up before the evening patrol. Two things caught his attention: Re-Tim giving his report, and the large picture on the screen.

"-age nineteen. Mafia family. Orphaned age seven; parents' will names an uncle in Italy as guardian. No further records for her in the States, until she applies for a driving licence shortly after the No Man's Land fiasco. Her licence is clean, and she's registered as owning a motorbike, but no car. However, she has rented cars three times using that licence. A few hospital admissions; I found notes suppressed in the computer system indicating unreported injuries – the admissions were for illness, not injury. She has a small apartment, bigger than the East End one but paid by wire, not cash. Her bank account receives a reasonable sum every other week. Unfortunately I haven't managed to trace it yet – I only got as far as the bank in Monaco – so I'm guessing Mafia money. Expenditure: rent, bills, insurance, licensing fees and insurance on the bike, gas, groceries; the usual household expenses. Cash withdrawals every week and there's a consistent pattern of larger withdrawals when the rent on the East End place is due. Other large and random withdrawals that probably indicate when she got her equipment. And yes, I am compiling the exact details."

Jason descended, noting that he was the last of the Manor's residents to arrive, but keeping his eyes on the picture. "Why d'you have a picture of Holly up?" he asked. Tim turned and frowned, and Jason got a better look. "Oh. Never mind." The eyes were the wrong color, but other than that, the resemblance was uncanny.

"Holly? Do you mean Holly Walker?" Tim asked.

"Yeah. The girl I was seeing, 'member? But it's not her," Jason shrugged.

Tim and Bruce exchanged a glance. "She does use the Holly Walker alias," Tim said hesitantly. "But Jay, this is Huntress."

Jason stared at the picture, something strange stirring inside him. "What's her real name?"

"Helena Bertinelli."


	61. Discoveries

**Family Ties Chapter 61 Discoveries**

Tim massaged his brow with his fingertips, momentarily feeling the relief of moveable fingers before remembering the problem at hand. Selecting a specific channel, he activated the comms.

"Batcave to Catwoman."

No response.

"Batcave to Catwoman. Catwoman, please respond."

Tim tried a few more times before giving up and grabbing the phone. He tried both her cell phone and the landline in her apartment, but there was no answer to either.

The third number finally got results: Selina's closest friend, Holly Robinson. "Sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know where Selina is?" Tim asked.

" _Yeah, she's here,_ " Holly replied. " _She came for dinner with Karon and I. Shall I put her on for you?_ "

"If you wouldn't mind," Tim said, relieved.

" _No problem. Selina!_ "

A moment later, the enigmatic cat thief was on the line. " _Hey, Tim, how's tricks? Your fingers working again?_ "

"Yes, they're fine," Tim answered politely. "Is there something wrong with your comm and your cell phone?"

" _I dropped the cell and it broke; you know iPhones,_ " she grumbled. " _My comm should be fine, it's just out of earshot._ "

"I get it," Tim smiled, relieved. "I'm sure you can understand why I was worried. Anyway, I've got a job for you."

" _You're too kind. What do you have for me?_ "

"I have an address; I need genetic samples retrieved. There is one resident, a female. I don't know what protections she has. I can send Nightwing to collect the samples, if you want to just get him in."

" _Sounds fun. Where is it?_ "

Tim gave her the address and hung up, before comming his eldest brother. "Batcave to Nightwing.

" _Batcave, Nightwing here. Report._ "

"Genetic sample needed. Catwoman gaining access to location, request that you obtain the samples."

" _Sure, no problem. And cut the formality. Where am I going?_ "

Tim gave out the address again, and finished up the call. "I'll give you a shout when I know which base I need the samples at."

" _Gotcha. Just remember to get some rest tonight._ "

"I will," Tim answered, rolling his eyes. "Batcave out. Batcave to Batman."

A pause. " _Red Robin, report._ "

"B, have you started removing the equipment from the Annexe yet?"

" _No. Robin only had the recommendations in an hour before patrol._ "

"Can you leave it an extra day or two? I have some tests to run, and the Annexe has better machinery."

" _Agreed. Check Robin's recommendations, so your equipment goes to the cave._ "

"Will do. Thanks, B. Batcave out."

Tim stretched as he rose. It was late enough that he could get away with biking to the Tower.

* * *

Jason had been laughing at Tim all morning. He seems to find it hilarious that Tim had fallen asleep in the lab in the Annexe, and no-one had noticed until he failed to arrive for breakfast. Luckily the comm in his ear allowed them to find him before they panicked too much. Of course, part of Jason's reaction was his attempt to hide the fact that his former gal-pal had been a fellow vigilante in disguise.

Tim was not happy, due to a combination of the ridicule, the crick in his neck from the uncomfortable sleeping position, and the fact his breakfast had consisted of two pieces of cold toast and some lukewarm coffee in the car while going directly to school.

But they had planned to sync their lunch breaks so Tim could fill them in on the report he'd intended to give at breakfast.

" _I traced the source of the subject's income,_ " Tim started, speaking in Romani so the cell phones on the cafeteria table could pick up his voice clearly and still retain confidentiality. " _You won't like this. It's from our company. The marketing division._ "

" _How did she know that is the one division I never quite managed to get under control?_ " Damian asked.

" _ **Maybe she already had her monetary diversion in place when you took over the finances, and that's why you never got a hold of it?**_ " Babs suggested.

" _Perhaps,_ " Tim allowed, and continued. " _Then the program I had cleaning up her medical record finished running. There were…discrepancies. She had her tonsils out eight months ago,_ _and_ _fourteen years ago. She had an appendectomy when she was six, but more recent scans show it in place. Finally, there was no record of her being treated for anything, not even shock, after her family's murder. That was when I sent Catwoman and Nightwing after genetic samples. Then I started searching other records for the aftermath of that attack. City records were unhelpful and the newspaper reports were all corrupted, which could be a side effect of the quake. So I looked at the Italian papers local to the Bertinellis' hometown. I found the obituary for the whole family, including Miss Helena. And they never printed a retraction or correction, which they would have done if they were mistaken._ "

There was silence. " _ **So who is Huntress?**_ " Dick asked at last.

* * *

Tim sat in front of the stupid computer, drumming his fingers on the desk as he waited for the results to be displayed. The rest of the family were gathered around him, working on homework or paperwork. Except Steph, who'd had to go home.

After analysing the DNA sample, the computer was cross-matching it with the entire database, and picking out the individuals most likely to be close relatives.

Tim sat up straighter as the computer beeped. "Results are in," he announced, causing all attention to return to the screen.

The first name flashed up. Damian Wayne. They all turned and stared at Damian, who gazed blankly at the screen. Two more names appeared: Selina Kyle, and Bruce Wayne.

"Bring her in," Bruce ordered tightly.


	62. The Tie That Binds

**Family Ties Chapter 62 The Tie That Binds**

Batman looked down at the young woman before him. Instructing his young ones to bring in Huntress proved to be an effective tactic – after less than an hour, Nightwing, Black Bat and Batgirl had returned in the four-seater Batmobile with the sleeping vigilante. He'd also had Red Hood help him drag one of the examination tables into the main cave, and the unconscious guest lay atop.

Her chest rose a little sharper, and her head twitched, before she once again fell still. There was an almost unnoticeable tenseness. "I know you're awake," Batman growled. "Stop pretending."

She instantly rolled upright and brought her bound hands into her lap. "Evening, Batman," she said coolly. "Nightwing, Batgirl, Robin, Red Hood, Spoiler, Black Bat. Red Robin still in San Francisco?"

Actually, he was out of sight on the staircase, and interestingly, Huntress looked like she didn't believe her own conclusion. "Who are you, Huntress?" he asked. "You say you don't mean to harm us, and you don't, but when you get careless…"

"Who says I'm careless?" Huntress retorted accusingly.

"Red Robin. He said you were just careless enough for us to find you out. You _wanted_ us to find you."

"You didn't realise it, did you?" Black Bat spoke up, evidently reading Huntress' reaction to Red Robin's conclusion.

"Guess not," she murmured. "Okay, so is this a really creepy recruitment drive?"

"We ran your DNA on a comparison through our database," Batman said bluntly. "What's your date of birth? And don't lie."

She glanced around, and her shoulders drooped as she realised she was caught out. "October the first…nineteen-fifty," she admitted.

Batman suppressed his reaction, but caught Spoiler and Red Hood starting out of the corner of his eye. They'd speculated on her origin, and ran a paternity test with her, Selina and Bruce himself, getting a positive result – leaving them nearly certain she was from the future.

But she was telling the truth, making her sixty-four years old, according to her birth certificate. So, what would be the most likely explanation? What if…

There was a sharp intake of breath as Nightwing reached his on conclusion. "How many years have you been in this world?"

"Six years," she whispered. "I was eleven."

"What happened?" Batman asked.

Huntress bit her lip and glanced meaningfully at the others. Picking up on the hint, Batman caught Nightwing's eye and flicked his gaze to the stairs.

"C'mon, let's let them talk," Nightwing said, hustling the others out. Batman severely doubted they were going any further than just out of sight, but that was the children.

"My parents were Bruce Wayne and Selina Wayne, née Kyle," Huntress began. "Did you find the Helena Bertinelli name I've been using? I picked that alias because I got to keep my first name, Helena. From when I was about seven, I wanted to follow in my parents' footsteps, and I started training. Mom was killed when I was eight. I started watching Dad's back on the streets the following year." She took a deep breath before continuing, hugging her knees to her chest. "Dad was killed by the Anti-Monitor six years ago, during the Crisis. For some reason, when the Justice Society got folded into the new history, I didn't. Nor did Kara – Supergirl as was, she's Powergirl now. I've been here ever since."

"Why did you never come to me?" Batman asked, sitting down next to her. "Why hide?"

"At first it was just so painful," she whispered. "You look like Dad, sound like him, move like him, even _glare_ like him. And after Jason…I had no idea what to do, because my heart broke every time I saw you and what you were going through. I owe Dick and Tim a lot for bringing you through that when I was too…afraid. By that point, I was just too scared. I didn't think you'd accept me, and I didn't think I'd cope with you rejecting me. After the quake, I tried to establish myself as Batgirl, but you gave it to Cassandra instead. I think…that was when I gave up on trying to get near you. I started creating Huntress, and resurrected Helena Bertinelli. I didn't think you'd find me, but Cassandra was probably right; I didn't realise I still want my old family back."

"I can't give you them back," Batman said gently, pushing back his cowl to look directly at the distressed girl. "But I can give you a new one."

"You…you would?" she asked. "But…why? I could have helped you so much, if only I hadn't been so scared of you, if-"

"Helena," Bruce said sharply. "You watched your father's back when he needed you. When you lost everything you picked yourself up and started again – twice. Considering you must have learnt how to use computers with no tuition, from scratch; that is quite impressive. You _are_ good at what we do. Not perfect, but none of us are. Of course I'll bring you into the family."

"Thank you," she said tearfully. "I- I- thank you."

She threw her still-bound hands around his neck and hugged him. Bruce carefully removed the cuffs on her wrists and wrapped his arms around her. "Take it easy," he murmured. "The others can sort most things out. Let's get you settled, then I think we should call Selina over."

Helena hugged him tighter.

Bruce felt love and joy fill him completely.


	63. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of this story. I hope you've enjoyed it. Please leave a comment.

**Family Ties Epilogue**

The main ballroom in Wayne Manor was bustling. The party had yet to split into two, and wouldn't until after the first few dances. The pipe band Stephanie had requested was playing Highland Cathedral, and about half the guests had already arrived. A few of Bruce's favourite journalists were milling around.

Behind closed doors, there was a different sort of busyness. Bruce and Helena were reading over pre-prepared statements. Tim was scrolling through the internet to track rumours. "'Wayne's Girls Dress Shop With Mystery Female,'" he read out. "'Cassandra Wayne, adopted daughter of billionaire Bruce Wayne, has been sighted dress shopping with Barbara Gordon and Stephanie Brown, long-term girlfriends of Richard Wayne and Timothy Wayne respectively, and an unknown black-haired beauty. Who is this mystery girl? Is Bruce robbing the cradle, or had she captured the heart of Jason or Damian Wayne, or even Cassandra herself?' Helena, break my sister's heart at your own peril."

"Oh honestly, is it not possible they simply made a new friend?" Selina said, exasperated, fiddling with an earring.

"Not according to the Squealer," Steph answered, looking over her boyfriend's shoulder. "Tim, can you help me with this necklace?"

"Sure," he said, putting his microcomputer in his inside pocket before doing up the clasp.

"Alright," Bruce said. "Tim, Barbara, are you sure Helena's story will hold up?"

"As sure as we can be with two days to do it," Barbara shrugged. She was wearing the same dress Dick had got her for her birthday. "It'll hold until we secure it; there's nothing that can't be explained."

"Good," Bruce nodded. "Let's go." he offered Selina his arm and led her out into the ballroom.

The band stopped playing and the voices died down at the sight of the hosts. The journalists headed straight for them, eager to be first to get an audience. Bruce held up a hand before the questioning could start. "Ladies and gentlemen, before we get the party started, I'd like to make an announcement." He caught Clark Kent's eye and saw him produce a small video camera, while Lois prepared her notebook and Jimmy Olsen checked his camera. Selina released Bruce's arm and stepped back, yielding him the floor.

"My girlfriend Selina had a second cousin," Bruce started. "This cousin died in the quake several years ago, and it was thought his whole family died with him. However, two days ago we became aware he was survived by his teenage daughter. This morning, I filed adoption paperwork. May I present my new daughter, Helena Kyle-Wayne."

He half-turned and held out his hand to Helena. She stepped up and began her own piece. "In Gotham, anyone can lose their family, from the Waynes to us street kids. But the loss of financial and material security isn't the biggest problem, it's being alone. Having no-one to turn to. And I'm sure Bruce can tell you all the money in the world can't solve that."

She took a deep breath and continued. "Of course I am grateful that Bruce can support me, but that's not nearly so important. He's given me a family again. All I can say to that is, thank you, _Dad_." She wrapped her arms around Bruce, as cameras flashed.

Dick came up and clapped Bruce on the shoulder. "On the behalf of the rest of us, welcome to the family, sis," he said. "Let's start the party!"

He gave Jason a very obvious look. Jason stumbled over. "May I have this dance, Helena?" he asked.

They all paired up, Cass with Damian and the others with their partners, as other couples took their places for the dance.

As the music started, Jason leant close to Helena. "We need to talk," he murmured. "You are Holly, aren't you?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "And I did enjoy our time together, if that's what you're-"

"Why?" Jason interrupted. "Just…why?"

"I was curious," Helena shrugged. "I wanted to know what you were up to. By the way, what's your relationship with Matches Malone?"

Jason snickered. "He's one of Bruce's aliases."

"Ah. Well, like I said, I did have a lot of fun, so when you called back-"

"But you knew who I was all along."

"Yes." She sighed. "How about we leave all that between Jay Peterson and Holly Walker. Start again fresh."

"Fair enough," Jason shrugged. "Hey. I'm Jason Todd-Wayne."

"Hi. I'm Helena Wayne," she replied.

"Pleased to meet you, Helena."

She giggled, and as the music changed, spun away. Partners switched, and Jason ended up with Babs, while Helena found herself in her father's arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Wayne Family will return in:  
> Jason and the Argonauts  
> Coming Soon to a Fanfiction website near you.


End file.
